


The King of Hearts

by cymyguy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ancient Egypt, Crown Prince - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Rape Recovery, Royalty, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2018-12-07 03:49:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 110,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11615268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cymyguy/pseuds/cymyguy
Summary: On Prince Tobio's 17th birthday he is gifted a sex slave. But this is a slow burner, not a smut rush. Set in Ancient Egypt style.





	1. Chapter 1

It was late in the morning, and the sun was just beginning its blistering assault. Yachi and Hinata were working in the fields; they did this one or two days a week, in order to give their fathers’ ageing backs a rest. Under palace rules it was lawful for direct family members to take their place, in the event of injury or illness. The youths wore wide-brimmed hats and long-sleeved flannels to protect themselves from the sun, and knelt side by side between the rows.

“Yach-kun, what’d you have for breakfast?”

“Um, I had—a banana…and some wafers.”

“That’s it? We’re going to be out here all day, Yach-san, you have to eat enough to make you strong for the whole time!”

“Oh, well, I’ll be okay. My mother will send one of my brothers with lunch, probably in a little while.”

“Ooo, what’s he going to bring you? I have four rice cakes and some dried fish and two oranges and bread. I had three oranges and two rice cakes this morning, with my eggs and gruel.”

Then he laughed, a tinkling, tumbling chuckle. As the sound played out into the atmosphere, it seemed to change it. The sun’s beams were wider, farther-reaching, for a moment, and the plants around them seemed to rustle faster, more alive.

“You always look so surprised, Yachi, but you know how much I eat, you’ve known me forever.”

“I guess you never stop surprising me.”

She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped a dirt smudge off her friend’s lightly freckled nose. He wrinkled it with his smile, and watched fondly as she turned her soft eyes onto her lap and smiled.

“Time to move now?” he said.

“Yes.”

But before they could stand up, there came the sound of a chariot.

“The taskmaster? My father said she checked yesterday, why would she be here again?” Hinata stood half way up, keeping his head under the level of the plants, and tried to peek through. “Did we do something wrong? Did something happen in the city?”

“Hurry, Hinata.”

Yachi was tugging on his shirt. They scampered down the row and knelt in a new place.

“We shouldn’t look up,” she said. “If we keep our eyes on our work they won’t ask us questions.”

He nodded vigorously at the ground and busied his hands. The horse feet had slowed down now. The youths hid their faces in the shadow of their hats, but Hinata moved his eyes to the side and caught a view of the animals’ graceful legs, stopped directly at the end of their row. He dropped his eyes back to the soil, but he strained with his ears to hear. There were two people in the chariot, who seemed to be having a conversation, though murmured so that Hinata couldn’t make it all out.

“Young, though—”

“Does that matter? For what…best we have seen.”

“Yes, we should…know what has been collected.”

“…small enough…easily.”

Hinata had meant to heed his friend’s words, but the sound of a foot crunching the dirt spooked him up quickly, and all of his face was exposed to the shirtless man stepping toward them. The young man froze as their eyes met. Molten brown irises were flickering at him, and he suddenly felt he were the one being approached, by a small but fearsome beast. He shook his head to break his eyes away. Then he spoke.

“Oi. The two of you—will come with us.”

“Yachi run!”

The redhead bolted, grabbing Yachi’s hand on his way by. In a few short steps he had blasted into full speed and was sprinting down the row. Then, as he held a vice grip on his friend, he was jerked back and sprawled onto his butt. He looked back, and saw that Yachi had also been flattened into the dirt. There was a black whip wrapped around her ankle, and the man was rushing them.

Hinata spun and launched himself at the pursuer. He latched onto his upper body, pulling on his hair and biting his neck. The man choked on a snarl and tried to pry him off. He stumbled back and fell, with Hinata still attached to him.

The second shirtless man drug the feeble but resisting Yachi past them. Hinata launched himself off his attacker’s chest and chased after them. He reached out for her stretching arm, but fell, when the first man grabbed him around the ankle. Hinata tried to turn on him, but the man pushed him hard into the ground, and as he coughed the dirt from his mouth, his hands were being tied behind his back.

“Get—off! Get off me! Let me go I didn’t do anything wro—”

He was hauled, kicking and writhing, to his feet.

“Get away! Yachi!”

She was standing beside the chariot, pale and scared but not preventing herself from being tied.

“You let her go! Get off me, leave us alone!”

He heard a sharp grunt as one of his kicks found a mark. In front of him Yachi was walked into the back of the chariot, and forced to her knees inside it. Hinata was shoved hard and lurched into the chariot’s front wall, but he turned to spring at them again, and his assailant crushed him down into the bottom, pressing a leg onto the back of his knees, and holding his head and shoulder down. The man still on his feet picked up the reins.

“Don’t worry Futakuchi, I will do the driving.”

“That is generous, Konoha!”

Hinata squirmed under his thick hands.

“Guhh—Gah! Get off! G—Let—Uh…”

Yachi’s knees were near his face as he panted in frustration. He moved his eyes up to her trembling chin, her pale precious cheeks, the glassy tears wincing at the corners of her eyes. He tried to reach for her, twisting his wrist until the skin was hot under the rope. The panicked flame in his irises cried back at her.

 

Tobio marched through the halls of the palace, moving down into the lower levels. He had spent the morning running along the River. He would rather have been at the council meeting, but that was the place for the crown prince, his older brother Tooru. Tobio was free from almost all responsibilities, because it was Tooru training to be the new king, in place of their sickly father.

Tobio entered the meeting room, now nearly empty. His brother stood near the chair atop the raised platform, at the far end of the room. Tobio passed between the two rows of nobles’ seats, approaching his brother and the two middle-aged men talking with him. Tooru wore a light skirt covering the first third of his thighs, with a dark red underthing slightly visible through the fabric. A thin plate of gold hung down against his upper chest, and he wore no other garment but a long cape of white gauze. The handsome prince turned, and his brown eyes lit on the dark-haired youth. A brutally charming half-smile spread his lips.

“Tobio.”

He turned back to the two men, who were advisors to the throne.

“Away now, knowing ones. We will speak more, on a day of less importance.”

“But, you could have done severe damage by then, Tooru-sama,” said Takinoue.

“Yes, in fact we have known you to take far less time than that,” said Shimada.

“Away, away.” He waved his hands. “I keep you to advise, not to mother.”

“Please remember our words, Majesty. They will not respect you for long if you do not prove your seriousness about the things you ought to be serious about.”

“You mean, just as you are not respecting now my serious intention of dismissing you?”

The men bowed, and left by the side door. Tooru turned again to Tobio, and again he smiled.

“Brother. Dear—Brother.”

“How was the council, what did you accomplish?”

He ignored the question, and descended the few steps of the platform.

“You must report to father now, so I will come with to hear the report.”

Again the younger was ignored. When he had come almost directly in front of Tobio, Tooru turned smoothly away, and sat down in one of the nobles’ seats. He draped his legs over the opposite armrest and lazed there.

“I see you are not yet dressed for tonight,” Tooru said. “At least, I pray not. Is my hope for some excitement in you to be disappointed?”

He did not wait for an answer; he lolled his head back, and began a speech to the ceiling.

“I am terribly excited for you. The age has finally come, that I have waited for on my brother’s behalf. You will finally begin to lighten up. Even to have some fun, it may be. You understand then my anticipation.”

He rolled his head back toward Tobio.

“Given your profound lack of vision, and your continual rebellion against any and all of my advice, I cannot imagine you have been enjoying yourself much. But now, something else to touch…Something to warm up that cold heart of yours, hm? At the very least, I am expecting that you will not be such a drag at dinner parties.”

Tooru stood up on his long, leanly muscled legs, and sidled over to him. Tobio’s set posture did not change. His brother came up next to him, outside his field of vision, and smiled above his shoulder.

“I want to see your choice, Brother. It is of great interest. Because…”

He started to walk around him, taking slow swaying steps and grazing over him with heavy eyes. Tobio did not trouble himself with following his movements.

“I have known you now seventeen years,” Tooru said. “Some people I have kept in company for mere hours and come to understand better than you. But I do not take that failure to heart. It is only that you give nothing to work with. Have you shown interest in anything? No, not even a curiosity. Never questioning into the affairs of your elder brother, though the affairs have been many. Not eager to learn. Not eager to steal, even.”

He stopped in front of him, pinning the sharp blue eyes with his narrowed browns. His smirk curled farther.

“But—Tonight. Without your consent, I am afraid, all that will change. With your choice you will bear yourself to all of us, and you will finally, hopefully…become a subject of general interest to me. If nothing else, does that excite you?”

“It does not,” he said.

Tooru huffed and pouted his head away. He marched toward the open side door.

“Dear Tobio...I fear you are lost to us, forever. By the end of the night, I will know it for sure. But so be it. And Brother—”

He turned in a flourish of cape.

“Beloved Brother. I wish you the happiest…of birthdays.”

He gave a real smile, bringing up his cheekbones into perfect peaches, laughing with his eyes and showing straight teeth. Tobio had been born too late to ever know the smile when it was genuine, but he could tell that it had been a very nice smile. Before his brother began to use it so openly as a signal for pride and mischief. Before something had gone bad.

 

When Yachi and Hinata were pulled from the floor of the chariot, they found themselves closer to the palace than they had ever been. The redhead did not even have the presence of mind to struggle, because he was awed by the looming wall, the towers stacked high, the hundreds of squares cut from the pale stone to let in the sun’s eternal light and heat. A moat wound a wavy path around the structure, and water flowed in from the River, which ran on the west side some distance away. There were great pillars that supported grand roof-covered porches, and curtains blew softly in tall doorways.

But when they were turned sharply to the left away from the palace, and toward a squat, square building with a heavy barred door, Hinata began his protest again in both body and word.

“Noo—Let us go. You can’t—do this—you can’t! Get off me, get off!”

They entered the small space, and were forced down the staircase directly in front of them, descending below ground. The only light was the sun streaming through the open door. At the bottom of the wooden steps they were turned immediately to the right on the stone floor, and thrown into a cell. As Hinata’s eyes adjusted, and he winced at the throbbing in his knees, there were a few voices around them, mixed and disoriented so that he couldn’t sort them out. The shirtless men went back up the creaking steps and shut the door, leaving them in total darkness.

“Heeeey,” Hinata screeched. “You can’t leave us down here, you come back right now, with a light. I swear. Come back here! Yachi are you there? Yachi-san.”

She touched his back. “I’m here, Hinata.”

“Where are we? Who else is here? I heard you, I know there’s someone.”

“Tanaka Saeko here. I’m from east side of the city, are you the common class too?”

“Yes, we were working in the fields when they came and took us. Palace soldiers.”

“Same, I was at the market when they got me and my best friend.”

“Shirofuku Yukie here with her,” said another female voice.

“Who else is in here?” Hinata said.

There were several more voices at once. Yachi murmured in his ear that she had heard three. Hinata spoke again.

“Why are we locked in here? Me and Yachi weren’t doing anything wrong, our families follow the laws and aren’t in trouble. Are you people criminals?”

“Of course not, we claim the same as you,” Tanaka said. “I’ve never caused any trouble for those goons.”

“I was in the fields too. Kindaichi’s my name, north side.”

“We’re from west,” Hinata said.

“Um, excuse me, Kindaichi-san,” said Yachi. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“I’m twenty-two, Yukie’s twenty.”

“I’m Hinata Shoyo, seventeen. And Yachi’s seventeen.”

“I—Asahi,” came a softer, lower voice. “Twenty. Years old.”

“What the hell is this?” Tanaka said. “Why’re they pulling a bunch of kids off the streets and tossing us in here?”

There was a sigh, the snobbiest Hinata had ever heard.

“Does anyone follow royal family news besides me?”

“Who _would_ follow that garbage about those palace brats?” Kindaichi said. “Who are you?”

“Yahaba. North side. I want you all to ask yourselves whether you’re considered physically desirable, where you come from.”

“Well, we’ve got big breasts,” said Tanaka.

“It’s the younger prince’s seventeenth birthday,” Yahaba said. “You know, their traditional coming of age. They hold a ceremony where the kid picks out his first—partner, you know?”

“Partner?” Hinata said.

“Like a marriage partner, except marry them is not what they do.”

“Ohhh,” Kindaichi said. “Wait. Oh gods.”

“You mean he picks out a slave,” said Tanaka. “Right?”

Yachi gasped.

“Yes,” said Yahaba. “And we’re…the selection.”

“A slave?” Hinata said. “What do you mean, I thought they had slaves from the time they were born in the palace. Don’t they?”

“Hinata,” Yachi murmured behind him. “A slave—for—favors. For—Um—”

“A sex slave,” said Tanaka.

“To use as he wishes,” Yahaba said.

Hinata’s eyes widened in the blackness. His mind was stalling, running through a flow of images that didn’t make sense. He swung a hand back, to cling numbly to Yachi’s skirt.

The door above them opened. Hinata could see the guards coming down the steps, and when he looked across, the vague shape of a seated figure in the opposite cell. All the prisoners had gone quiet, taking the opportunity to learn something more of their situation. The guards were speaking.

“Are you sure these are enough? Only seven? I thought for Tooru-sama they had nine or ten.”

“But there is a good field of choice here. Some of every kind. Besides, I have heard many say the younger prince is not the kind his brother is.”

“So take them up,” a third woman said. “It is already midday, they need their measurements taken, and to be dressed appropriately for the event.”

“We should have Aone down here for help. We do not want any mishaps. And take this one last.”

Futakuchi whipped a chain against the bars, making Hinata jump out of his skin.

“He is trouble.”

 

Tobio had not the faintest sense of anticipation for the evening’s activities. This was another thing to be endured; if he had stopped to consider it, he might have been dismayed to discover just how much of his life fell into that category.

Tonight was set to be particularly trying for him, because he was indeed a different kind than his brother. Natural reserve and a temperamental pride, which had been fed since birth just as his brother’s had, gave him a sullen and irritable impression. He disliked attention from nobles, generals, and other near equals, and was awkward in conversation with them. That they were to be the audience greatly displeased him.

And as for this show, in which he would be choosing from the most attractive, best-bodied subjects the bottom class had to offer, he felt he was the one on show more than they, which he found highly embarrassing. As servants dressed him in a gauzy toga of silver, with suggestive slits at the front of each thigh, he wished he were already removing it. But not because of any eagerness to take part in his first act of the flesh; he had no expectation of finding any of them the least bit desirable, and intended to get on with that activity just as he did everything else. He would endure.

The hall was packed with onlookers, when Tobio was escorted in. A long platform was centered in the room, and at the place where it stuck out from the wall, his father and brother were seated. The ailing king had been permitted from his bed because of the anticipated short duration of this celebration. Otherwise, he could not have attended what was to be his younger son’s most important life event, given that he had no coronation to look forward to. The king wore a flowing blue robe, and Tooru sat next to him, clothed in a scarlet tunic which cut in a V down to his waist. He smirked at him, but Tobio had already long looked away.

To his right there were seven evenly spaced squares, created by dark green curtains that hung from the ceiling to the floor. Two guards were stationed at each one, with their backs to one half of the crowd. The guards faced the prince, who stood between the thrones and the first curtain, perfectly straight and stone faced, but clenching his fists at his sides, only wanting to have it all over with.

The room was rapidly quieting, as they waited for Tooru to give the opening words on behalf of his father. But the crown prince was seated contently in his chair, eyeing the farthest curtain, because only the legs of its two guards could be seen; they were inside with an apparently troublesome captive. As the spectators’ voices died down, muffled scraping and scuffling could be heard. The heavy chain clanged loudly on the floor and echoed around the hall. Finally the guards emerged, one red-faced, both tense in the shoulders.

Tooru stood.

“Prince Tobio. Dearest brother. Esteemed son.” His smile was grand, overpowering the entire room. “We gather in celebration of your young life, which has come and gone faster than your family could ever have anticipated. We stand humbled in your presence, by the mere fact that it is not a small grave boy who stands before us, but a strong, steadfast, proper man.”

Tobio’s chest heaved viciously, and painfully as he tried to keep still. His eyes were screaming. Tooru knew, and smiled all the more.

“You, my brother, were my companion and I yours, until the time came for me to leave you. And now you once again have the privilege of a companion, though of a different nature.”

There was eager laughter in the crowd. Tobio, too angry blush, glared up at him, as Tooru smiled down. Beside him their father was looking dazedly at the floor.

“All your life I have known you to be worthy of this moment, and today time finally catches up to that knowledge. We wish you good fortune in your choice. May the gods guide your decision, and all that is to come of it. And—” He raised his arm, hand open in offering. “Enjoy. Young prince, brother and son.”

Tooru sat down. The spectators clapped raucously. Ukai, the palace’s chief advisor, left the king’s side, approached the younger prince and bowed. Then he turned, and Tobio stepped with him to the first curtain. He felt the heat rising in his neck, then into his jaw. He furiously attempted to will it off his cheeks, and did not look at the hungry faces all glued to him.

“The first,” Ukai announced.

The two guards bent down, and each lifted a corner of the curtain as they stood back up. The captive, a tall bearded man, took two steps forward, so that the curtain could be dropped back down. Asahi’s hands were chained together in front of him, and hooked to the floor. He wore a green toga, which hung down from one powerful shoulder and cut above roaring thighs.

“Strength,” Ukai said, to the room now buzzing. “Strength of labor. A solid frame, a face of courage, and seemingly suspended forever at its age. A worthy challenge, if that is what you desire, Majesty.”

Tooru was leaning toward his father’s chair, and murmured commentary into the old unhearing ear.

“Much too strong for Tobio. He would not have fun with that, not as he is now.”

“The second,” said the advisor.

She was a woman with dark red-brown hair, and wearing a yellow dress of light material, V-ing deeply in the chest. This was all Tobio took in by his once-over; he was trying to keep the flow quick. His fists grew tighter and tighter, and the strong dignity of his shoulders was beginning to break, as tension crept in instead.

“A typical female,” Tooru said to his father. “A female is what he should choose, since he is, after all, engaged to one. But I know that he will not pick this. He does not have typical taste, even if he is a great bore on the surface.”

“The third.”

Just then there was a violent rattle of chain, and an impatient growl. All heads turned toward the last curtain, where the guards were ducking inside to once again quiet the inhabitant. Ukai cleared his throat, and waved his hand to signal for the raise of the third curtain.

“A soft male, with a thin, womanish form. Admirably thick hair, and a face of fine features, that gives an interesting impression of femininity.”

Yahaba glanced to his right, caught Shirofuku’s sympathetic but nervous eyes, then turned again to face the front. Ukai and the prince moved on.

“The fourth.”

The curtain was pulled. Tooru straightened fast in his seat, and said decidedly:

“Small, mild, easily pleasing to the eye. That is the one you ought, Tobio.”

“A blond, a petite, a fresh innocence of the face,” said Ukai. “Pure like a child—”

A sharp strike of chain on floor. The last curtain billowed out at the bottom, revealing three sets of feet. The hissing voice of one of the guards traveled to the prince.

“Do not let go of that side, I told you.”

Ukai was looking on with irritation, Tooru with amusement. Tobio had spent barely a moment considering the small blond girl, and now he did not listen at all as the advisor announced the fifth. The only point of interest, to almost everyone, was whoever occupied the seventh curtain. As Ukai gave a description to the boy with pointy black hair, the guards ducked out from under the last curtain and attempted to recapture their proper form.

It was Hinata causing the distraction. He had been gagged after his verbal outburst, and the rough handling paired with the darkness inside his cloth prison was disorienting. But he did know that they had now left him unwatched. He took this chance to lift his shackled hands to his mouth, and with his free fingers worked at the tight gag. He had no real sense at the moment, no concept of what he would see or what might become of him. But he was aware of one real fear squeezing around his heart and twisting his stomach into knots. He could not let Yachi be chosen.

The moment his mouth was free, Hinata threw himself onto his stomach, thrust his head under the curtain, and cried out.

“Pick me!”

The room was stunned in silence, except for one gasp from his friend, as the redhead scrambled to get to his full tiny height.

“Pick me, Osu!”

Both guards rushed to block him from the prince’s view, and Futakuchi slapped Hinata hard across the face. In response the youth kneed him between the legs. As he shrunk away from another coming punishment, Ukai shouted:

“Stop.”

The guards froze, and he waved them away from the boy. Because the prince was pointing at him.

Tobio passed over the unrevealed sixth selection, and stood in front of the little redhead, who was now frozen stiff. But the scowl on his young face did not change, even as he met the cold, challenging eyes of the prince.

“Small, and yet—inciting a large amount of intrigue,” Ukai said, in a more subdued tone. “His hair an extreme rarity among his people. Of course it is said that Rah himself, during the times he has appeared in human form, adorned his own head with a similar hue.”

Even as the prince’s eyes ran rapidly up and down him, Hinata’s did not waver from their defiant focus on his face.

“A small build, but not weak. The stockiness a typical of his kind, but the youthful face creates a more unique combination.”

He cut himself off when the prince turned to him and gave one nod. Ukai faced the guards directly.

“Take them out, all the others. Then release them. You, bring the seventh to us.”

Lev unhooked Hinata’s chain from the floor, and Futakuchi began to pull him toward the prince and advisor. He hung back, putting resistance on the chain, but did not pull violently, and did not raise his voice.

“Hinata—”

He turned at the familiar tone, still sweet even in its distress.

“Hinata-kun!”

He looked at Yachi’s ghostly pale, with the red beginning to blotch her cheeks as she grew frantic. Her eyes were in terror. His were wide and still, with no flicker of assurance. Then she was blocked from view by two guards. Hinata turned back to the prince.

Tooru was erect on the edge of his seat. His eyes were sharply attentive, but his voice came in a low purr.

“Ah…Ah ha…I knew there was a kink, somewhere. But I wonder…if it was the specimen, or the fact that he called out—that got Tobio’s attention.”

Tooru stood up. He wore a wide smile as he began to clap. The rest of the room broke out in applause, cheers and whistles.

When Ukai spoke, Hinata was near enough to hear over the noise.

“He will be ready in your chamber, by the time you have finished your meal. What is your wish for his attire, Majesty? Perhaps a preferred color?”

Hinata’s deep scowl returned.

“Whatever goes best with his hair.” The prince gave one downward glance at him, as he moved away.

Tooru watched his brother walk past and go back through the door, even before the crowd had begun to filter through the outside exit. He returned his gaze to the redhead, who stood looking around him as Ukai spoke with the guards. Tooru smirked, and muttered to himself.

“Tobio-chan wants dominance. But not pure, unchallenged dominance. He is one of the family in that, I also find no thrill in ease. But he chooses one so much smaller and weaker in body that he is sure to have his way, no matter the size of this subject’s insolent will. He wants to feel—that he is conquering, and yet—wants the assurance that it will not be too great for him to conquer. This…is interesting indeed.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so very sorry for the slow update.

It was to be Tobio’s last dinner with his family as they were now, before he became a man in full. But for several months their father had been unable to join them at table. He took his meal in bed, and as a substitute for his company, Tooru had invited several of his favorite young nobles, ones he well knew his brother detested.

Tooru’s place was at the head of the table. His wife Shimizu sat silently on his right. Their son sat next to her. He was nearing three years old, grave and regal like his mother, with black hair that floofed like his father’s. Tobio and his nephew were not particularly comfortable with one another, but Tobio certainly preferred the Little Prince’s company over their four guests. And on this day, at this time, he could think of nothing more undesirable than their presence.

“Well, Brother. It is your night. Let us hear your thoughts on it.”

“Was it unnerving to be in front of all your kingdom at once?” said Hanamaki. “At least you did not have to speak to them, as the King did.”

“Oh yes. A touching speech,” said Matsukawa. “I do not remember your father giving such a heartful sentiment, at your ceremony.”

“Do not pretend you are ignorant of the fact that my brother deserves far better than me,” said Tooru. “Now do speak up, Tobio. It is not all the kingdom here. We thank the gods it is not.”

Tobio was pushing food around his plate, and shifting periodically in his seat. He scooted forward to the edge, then reversed and pressed his back hard into the chair.

“Oh, my. He does not hear us at all.”

The younger prince looked up.

“No, his mind is not here,” Hanamaki was saying.

“Indeed, we tower over the height at which all his energy is currently vested.”

Tobio’s mouth twisted, unable to move into any definite expression, and the flush that had been brewing on his neck as his thoughts ran along now jumped into his face. The display earned him five nasty smiles, and more heat in his cheeks.

“It is almost unbelievable,” said Matsukawa, “But I do think your brother is pure, in some respect.”

“In many, many respects, make no mistake,” the crown prince answered.

“Now I feel he is too good to sit with us,” said Akiteru. “He is above the teasing without any effort.”

“Oh he is making the effort,” said Hanamaki. “His color is a sign of concentration.”

Tobio wanted to put a stop to them, but he was nearly panicked about the seeming lack of control over his voice and twitching hands.

“Perhaps,” said Matsukawa, “One of us should check whether he is making the effort elsewhere as well.”

This led to a short fit of hysterics in Akiteru. Tobio grabbed hard on the bottom of the table. Across from him, his brother wore a taunting brow that threw a chill of loathing through his stomach, while the rest of him was burning up.

“I am glad this was not the family affair it ought to have been,” said Tooru. “He would have ruined the sentiment with his inattention.”

“I do not blame him,” said Kei.

“That must be a first between you,” said Matsukawa, “Unless you are about to add something more.”

“Since our Osu has tyrannized him throughout his existence, there really is no wonder at his eagerness for someone who will be for once under his dominion.”

“Ah, and there is the salt to flavor a conversation among bitter old men.”

“How true, how terrible,” said the crown prince. “I have come to that same conclusion. My brother is too free in youth, we no longer occupy the same generation.”

There was a moment of quiet, in which they were all watching Tobio, who had left them once again. The younger prince started and looked hard from face to face, causing them to laugh, even his brother to chuckle.

“I do wish you could stay so adorable forever, Tobio-chan. Part of me does, that is.”

“Enough,” Tobio muttered. He was at a loss for what to do, against so many of them, and feeling so unlike himself.

“For a prince I cannot say it was anything,” said Hanamaki, “But from our position, I will gladly admit the selection from such a class was a good one.”

“Who would you have picked?” Akiteru asked him. “I have no honest idea, for myself.”

“The unrevealed. I saw her as they were removing the excess. Blond, not lacking anywhere.”

“The second is my choice,” said Matsukawa. “That one was the better in face.”

Tooru shook his head. “Even my brother has more imagination than the two of you.”

“Who would Our Greatness have chosen, then?” said Hanamaki. “Do you prefer your brother’s to ours?”

“I need not say. I had my turn. This is Tobio’s.”

Then the Little Prince began to murmur out a repeated wish to leave. This was his way of fussing. When he started kicking his legs back and forth, even without making a sound, it meant that he truly was in a fit, so his mother looked at Tooru, who nodded once without eye contact. Shimizu turned and nodded to the boy’s caretaker. She was the servant Michimiya, who sat on the floor between the chairs of the Little Prince and his mother, because her status was not high enough to earn her a place at the table. Now she stood up, waited for the boy to slide off his seat, and led him by the hand out of the room.

Tobio was trying to fill his tingling mouth, which wanted for something, but remained stubbornly dry and oblivious to any flavor. When he next came back to the reality of the table, everyone was looking at him. He blinked, and they laughed.

“What?” he demanded. More laughter.

“A silent answer,” Tooru said, “As plain as his face.”

“May I ask, Tobio-sama, why you chose the small redhead?” Akiteru said.

“Do tell, do tell,” said Matsukawa.

“Tobio has always been the liberal of the family,” his brother said. “It is like him to respond quickly and easily to a request if there is no good reason he should refuse it.”

“It is true, I think, that your brother is generous. But will it be all that fun to have someone so willing?”

“The gods have not blessed us all with the ability to instill willingness in others,” Hanamaki said, glancing at Tooru. “Rather than resistance, doesn’t willingness ensure that the prince will get all he wants?”

“And with no work,” said Matsukawa. “I would take that over the tiresome games the King plays.”

“Do not say willingness again,” Tooru said. “You are driving my brother nearer to madness.”

Tobio’s jaw blotched with a painful red. His eyes were threatening, but mostly to themselves, harassed and warning of a collapse.

“But truly your choice was intriguing,” Hanamaki said. “You did not even wait for the remaining reveal. It was a much better show than your brother’s.”

“That I resent, Hanamaki,” said the prince. “It is not my fault that his random selection provided such a gift.”

“But a shrimp for you, Prince-sama,” said Kei, with a wry smile at his plate. “One has to wonder what you saw in him.”

“Why, Tobio has yet to know that for himself,” his brother said. “He will discover it before the night is gone.”

“My reasoning does not matter in the least, to any of you,” Tobio said finally.

The doorway from the kitchen was suddenly occupied by a shadow, before their cook emerged. As was tradition, Irihata came out halfway through the meal to hear any complaints or further wishes. He stood with his hands behind his back, facing the crown prince first.

“As usual,” Tooru said, with a wave of his hand.

He looked to Shimizu, who gave one nod without raising her eyes. Then Irihata turned fully to the other end of the room, shuffling a little in place, to wait for Tobio’s response. The younger prince was staring at the table. His fork shook the smallest bit in his tight fist. As if he would care what the boy was wearing, he would have ordered everything off if he were not embarrassed to say so to the advisor. He wanted to see it all, without a delay, it was cruel to view so little for so short a time—

“You will get nothing for your survey from Tobio,” said Tooru. “Even if he were willing to attend to you, he has not tasted any of the meal.”

“I’m afraid I do have a complaint.” Hanamaki was raising a finger. “The squid is too fresh. It squirms more than the young prince does.”

“And the lobster may have been undercooked,” Kei said. “It is not as red as our prince.”

Tobio slammed down his fork. There were snickers around the table, and a genuine chuckle from his brother. The poor cook had large eyes, and was nodding fast at the floor, having taken the comments to heart.

“It is no fault of yours,” Tooru said. “Only one thing can satisfy him, for the time being.”

His brother stood up.

“I am finished,” he growled.

They attempted to muffle their laughter. Tooru lolled his head to the side and smirked testily at him. Then he straightened back up, with his chin high.

“You may leave us, Tobio-chan. If we are not enough to distract you from your purpose, that cannot be helped. So go.”

His brother moved immediately.

“Ah ah ah. This is a celebration in your honor, do not leave so unceremoniously. We will toast your pleasure.”

Tooru raised his goblet, and the nobles hurried to raise theirs.

“To pleasure.”

“Indulge yourself.”

“It should have been said more eloquently, but yes,” Tooru nodded. “Any and all that you want, Brother. Take it. Enjoy.”

He drank, and the rest followed suit. Tobio’s head tilted in barely a bow, and he left. After scattered snorts of laughter, the room was quiet, waiting for the prince to revive the conversation. He took a bite of bird and chewed thoughtfully.

“Tobio’s choice was all that I could ask for. Interesting indeed.”

“I certainly have not seen anything like it,” Hanamaki said.

“I like it very much,” said Tooru. “A strong spirit which Tobio will have to break. Proper training for the proud royal he is to marry. If he is not able to break her, he would be very unhappy in his union, and we do not wish for that.”

“But the boy volunteered,” Matsukawa said. “Does that not mean he wanted this? Either the prestige of the position, or a genuine desire for you brother, must have been the motive.”

Akiteru spoke up. “Yes, I found it very odd. Has there ever been a volunteer in the whole history of this tradition?”

“There have been volunteers to the selection,” Kei answered, “But never one to the actual point, I believe.”

“There was nothing odd in his willingness,” the prince said. “The bond between the redhead and the precious blond made for an unusual situation.”

“What bond?”

“What blond?”

The two friends looked at each other.

“I mean their obvious connection. The male shrimp’s first outburst came as she was being spoken of. He had to be silenced. Then he broke free, and revealed himself before his turn, cutting the order and giving Tobio less time to consider, and in the process drawing the attention away from all others.”

“Ah. I did not make the observation of his timing,” said Matsukawa.

“No, the three of you were far too occupied with controlling your own pricked fancies,” said Kei.

“Your brother is as much a joy killer as the King’s,” Hanamaki cried at Akiteru. “It is a wonder they do not get along better.”

“Too great a likeness,” Tooru said.

“You should not speak ill of our Prince,” said Matsukawa. “Kei is a fine sport to it all, but the Prince’s feelings are a bit more delicate, and even though he is not here, the devoted brother will defend his honor.”

“His honor will be at its own defense tonight,” Hanamaki said. “Unless I am mistaken as to the evening’s arrangements.”

Tooru smirked, but said nothing.

“And anyway, my Prince Tobio is not to be my king. So long as I show my respects to the King, I am safe.”

“Safe from the removal of your head,” said Kei, “But in very much danger of having another of your heads attended to by the King.”

The other three exploded into laughter, and Tooru smiled broadly. With the prince’s eyes averted, Matsukawa leaned in to his friend and mumbled. But Tooru’s trained ear picked up the noise with ease.

“What was that, Matsu? Again, for all to hear.”

“It was nothing of importance.”

“Make no excuse. What is the purpose of my invitation, if not to be humored by you?”

“I said, perhaps your brother will feel empowered in some way, after this, and start to expect more. Maybe he will develop an eye for the throne.”

The table had gone silent. Matsukawa was looking at him seriously, though not nervously. Tooru smiled, and lifted his chin.

“All the better.” He took a sip of wine. “I have often thought that our roles should be reversed. What is the point of having a brother if he is not going to cause troubles for my throne? I would do as much for him.”

“Of course,” the friends said together.

“What you must understand,” the prince said, “Is that _I_ am hoping for a change in Tobio, more than anyone else. And from what I have seen, that change is already beginning to take effect.”

 

The prince had never until now despised the size of the palace. It felt like an age between the ground floor dining hall and his tower-top chambers. In the first of two rooms he was met by waiting servants. Ennoshita, his head servant and right hand, spoke first:

“Good evening, Majesty.”

“Is he here? Inside? Is he?”

“Yes, he is ready and everything has been prepared.”

“Has he escaped?”

“No.”

“You know for certain? That he has not?”

Ennoshita almost smiled. “If he had, I would likely be in more distress, Majesty.”

“Did he struggle?”

Tobio was moving to the right of the door now, toward a standing screen. Narita and Kinoshita hurried to join him behind it, expertly stripping away the tunic, and the thin band of silver that had served as his boyhood crown.

“He did. We asked the guards to stay and help us change him. He fully expressed his disapproval. Very fully.”

The prince emerged in a long, thin robe of maroon.

“You will allow no one into that hall,” he said to Ennoshita. “Put these two at each end to keep watch, and when they are tired call a guard to replace them. They are not to answer questions, and my brother is not to come anywhere near here, even if there is a crisis. You will stay outside the door, and forget everything you hear.”

“Yes, it will be as you say.”

He bowed with the other two, and they backed toward the door.

Tobio turned forward, and moved into the small hall connecting the two chambers. As his clothes were being changed he had grown nervous; his stomach was cramping up, and he felt hot all over. Blood pounded in his ears and dizzied his eyes. He pushed himself forward and entered the room.

There was the boy. All the heat and tension rushed into the pit of his stomach, clenching it hard in a trembling knot. It felt like his throat had been scraped bare and numb, and he couldn’t tell if his mouth was drying out or beginning to water. His thighs tingled.

Hinata’s wrists were shackled together, and the chain was looped around a large circular column near the wall. He tugged at it and grumbled to himself, with his back to the prince. Tobio stood silently and took in his appearance; he had been dressed in dark green silk, a tunic that scooped down in the back, revealing clean pale skin between the shoulders, and taunt ridges of muscle along either side of the spine. Around his neck was a collar of matching material. The end of the tunic fanned out into a little skirt, which only just covered his bottom, leaving a hint of undercheek to be seen when he moved.

Suddenly Hinata caught sight of him and jumped, almost a foot in the air. He had flattened himself against the pillar, but straightened after a moment of recuperation.

“You—stay away from me! I hate you and I won’t allow you to touch me. I’ll never do what you want, I won’t!”

Tobio said nothing. He walked toward him. Hinata backed up against the column. The prince did not stop, and the redhead began to move around the side of the pillar. Their eyes were locked together.

Hinata squeezed into the space between the pillar and the wall, but Tobio slid in after him, and Hinata staggered back quicker. He moved around to the front, feet more frantic, until his wrapped chain ran out of slack. The unexpected jerk sprawled him onto the floor.

He was completely still, as the prince leaned down to him, their breathing the only sound in the room. A perfectly proportioned hand reached out, with the intention of tilting his chin up. But Hinata lunged, and bit the hand.

“Gah!”

He jerked back and glared at the mark, then at the boy. Hinata was frozen in fear. Tobio grabbed the chain and pulled him close, grabbing and squeezing his cheeks to hold him there. Then his grip loosened and tightened in a single second, as he saw properly for the first time the redhead’s eyes.

The brown was so much that it poured out, ran down, burst the walls of his irises. They burned angrily, and the heat, such heat, seared through his skin, smoldered inside his body, bathing every crevice—

This was all he took in, before Hinata managed to pull his head free. Tobio let the chain drop from his other hand, but continued to stand over him. His eyes were blanks as he took a moment to recover, choking down the hot and thick in his throat. Once he was sure of his voice, he said:

“How old are you?”

“What do you care? If that mattered the soldiers would’ve asked me before they grabbed me and tied me up!”

“You are older than you look, I think,” was his reply. “What is your name?”

“That’s another thing no one bothered to ask, and another thing I’m not telling you!”

He tugged and twisted against the chain, trying to rotate it and regain his full length of separation from the prince.

“You fear me,” Tobio said. “I suppose you are not accustomed, you do not see those like me where you are from.”

“I don’t _want_ to see people like you!”

The prince did not answer. Hinata succeeded in spinning the chain, but before he could scoot away Tobio stepped down on it, preventing him.

“You are an unusually small male. Were you underfed as a child?”

He glared.

“Have you done this kind of act before? I know your people govern themselves by odd rules about such things. Have you with any of your own?”

No answer. Tobio took it to mean he had not, and spoke again accordingly.

“You are afraid of what you have to do.”

Hinata’s voice was low and edgy.

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“You will do what I wish.”

With that, Tobio reached to pick up the chain. But he removed the weight of his leg too soon, allowing a moment for the redhead to swing the chain down on his foot. As the prince stammered out a curse, Hinata moved as far away as possible, straining desperately at the stubborn iron. With one hand Tobio pinned the chain to the wall, and with the other he pulled the boy back to him. Hinata kicked him in the side of his knee and ran past. The chain crossed Tobio’s chest and forced him onto his butt. As Hinata continued around the pillar, the metal pressed to the prince’s body and pinned him there. Gnashing his teeth at the bit of orange he could see, he grabbed the chain and gave a hard jerk. The boy toppled onto his back in front of him.

The prince pulled him onto his lap and gripped the silk collar; his knuckles dug painfully into Hinata’s throat. Their faces were brought together, but only for a moment, before Hinata head-butted him solid on the nose and scrambled away.

Tobio stood up, snarling and bleeding. He wiped the red with a vicious swipe of his arm, as he came looming toward him.

“I—am Prince of this land! It is an honor to be in my presence, within my chambers within my palace walls! You—”

“There’s no honor in being chained up like an animal, and used for something dirty and disgusting that I don’t want to be used for!”

“You will give the respect I am due! I chose you, if not for that you would never have known a significant moment in your life. And now you will do as I command or you will pay for your ungratefulness.”

“You took me from my family and brought me to a place where I hate everyone, and think you own me now and can do whatever you want like I’m a _thing_ , and you say I should be grateful, you idiot Osu!”

“Do not call me that,” he roared. “You were born as you are, to your people, and you were brought here because of that, but you were chosen because you asked to be chosen. You have no excuse for—”

“That was so she didn’t get chosen! My friend the little blond girl, I’ve grown up with her my whole life and I would never ever let you have her, I’d never let this happen to her and I hate you and I’m never letting you have your way ever!”

Hinata heaved noisily at him. Tobio said, in a calmer voice:

“To save her, you should have protected her before it was too late.”

The brown eyes burst into flames.

“You sent out your trained soldier giants who are bigger than me and Yachi combined, to sneak up on two kids who were working in _your_ stupid field, minding our own damn business and not expecting it so how was I supposed to keep them both away from Yachi? Then they put us in a dungeon, then they dressed us in humiliating clothes and made us stand in front of a huge crowd of people, and if I didn’t hate you before all that there’s no way I wouldn’t hate you now, and I would never want to do what you want because you’re a horrible person and I don’t want to have anything to do with you. So you have no choice, if you’re going to do it you’ll have to force me!”

Hinata’s whole body trembled with rage, as he stared him down. There were angry crinkles at the corners of the prince’s eyes, but they themselves were unreadable. Then, he started to walk away.

“I do not care enough to force you. Not tonight.”

Tobio moved toward the wide, high bed. It was surrounded by dark blue curtains with a thin, looping gold pattern. After he entered, he let the material fall back together, cutting them off from each other. There was a pedestal at the bedside, with a shallow bowl atop it; realizing what it was, Tobio threw out his hand and knocked it down, shattering the pottery and splattering the oily liquid. He dropped onto his back and lay with his limbs stiff and straight.

“If you’re trying to fool me it won’t work. I’m not going to fall asleep,” Hinata said. “And anyway I’d wake up as soon as you touched me. And if that happened you’d regret it. I’m serious, I’ll do anything and I don’t care how much it hurts. I’ll blind you. I’ll bite you anywhere, and I mean anywhere. Or kick your teeth out. And even if you tie me down, I’ll still—”

“Silence,” he said. “You are not to speak inside my bedchamber.”

Hinata glared through the dark.

“If it’s a bedchamber where’s my bed?” he muttered.

Then he lowered himself onto the floor and leaned back against the column. Moonlight pooled there from the front corner window. Hinata bent back his cuffed hands and tugged at the silk collar, hoping to break it.

Tobio sat up in bed, then returned his feet to the floor and reached out to part the curtains a small crack. He peered through and watched the redhead clawing at the collar. Hinata gave up, then looked around him nervously. On their second sweep, his eyes stopped on the bed. The prince, suspecting that the boy couldn’t see him, did not move. Hinata looked away. He pulled at the collar once more, before resting his head back against the pillar and looking up through the window. Tobio was absolutely still and silent as he observed him. All he could use at this distance were his eyes, which burned and watered from his intensity, taking in the tufting hair, the skin shining pale in the white light, the small girth of the arms, but their fluid curving definition. He wanted much more; to touch, taste, breathe it in…

Hinata turned to his right, where he knew a tray of food, that he had not touched when it was first offered, was waiting for him. He started to crawl to it, but froze at the sound of his own chain scraping the floor. He started again, more slowly, but the sound repeated and his shoulders tensed. He turned and lifted the chain, and moved once again toward the tray. Then his stomach growled. His head snapped to the curtain. There was no movement there. So Hinata leaned back on his haunches and stretched out his leg, and slid the tray over with his foot. He ate quietly.

The prince sat on the edge of his bed, staring unfocused at the closed curtains. What he saw in his mind’s eye was a flood of provoking images. He had been paraded in front of the kingdom, he had been humiliated at dinner, and the wishes that he had so suddenly and unexpectedly developed were nearly as suddenly denied. Together this was more than enough to prevent sleep. He left the bed with a sharp swoosh of the curtains. Hinata froze and watched him exit the room.

Tobio crossed the whole length of the front chamber, pacing furiously. He cursed this night. He had been surprised, which was unpleasant enough. Then he had been taken out of himself, a state of being which baffled him. There was no one part legitimately attractive on the boy. In honesty, he resembled a child far more than Tobio thought respectable. The color of the hair, as a color on its own, was not desirable, nor the build a proper one, everything being much too shortened.

No, it was not the specifics that had thrown him, but the fact that something like this boy existed. All the aspects of the appearance put together, and with the addition of the way he acted, was an anomaly, a wonder to him. It took only a minute of thinking along this line, before he had to see more.

He went back to the inner chamber. The redhead was lying on his side on the polished stone floor. His cheek rested on his forearms, just below the shackled wrists, and his knees were curled up to his chest. He was sound asleep. Tobio stood feet away and glared at him. All the threats had been empty, the boldness only a bluff. In reality he was as weak as he looked right now.

But no, weakness was not what it was. The boy claimed to hate his captivity, yet he ate, and slept, and carried on. This was some kind of simplicity, or purity, that the prince did not understand.

He had come in to look, but now he was irritated and could not anymore. He went out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This fic does not represent my actual attitudes toward the HQ characters (I love them all an obscene amount). Aspects of their personalities have been exaggerated or invented to suite the theme of the story, but I have complete respect for the HQ characters as they actually appear in the manga and anime. Do not take my choice of villains to heart!

Hinata woke. He blinked at the vaulted ceiling. He rolled to his side, and blinked at the rich blue curtains of the four-poster bed. He looked across the polished floor, with its painstaking pattern of different color pebbles, and thought that he must be dreaming. Then he saw the prince, and flinched. He was standing at a window, leaning one shoulder against the wall as he looked out. Hinata sat up in a flash, rattling his chain. The prince turned at the noise, and walked a few steps toward him. The redhead tried to shake the sleep from his eyes.

“You wake early,” Tobio said. “Do your people start their work with the sun?”

He didn’t answer.

“Stand up.”

“No. Why?”

“Do as I say.”

Slowly, and without looking away, he got to his feet. The silk tunic was wrinkled now, and oddly stretched in places, but it still cut in the same spots, spots which Tobio approved of. His eyes moved down and back up, without hiding their intentions.

“Turn.”

“No!”

“I want to look at you, and you will let me.”

As they stared, neither pair of eyes gave way. Then, Hinata backed against the column, scowling. Tobio’s eyes slitted to a frightening width. He stepped closer. The boy’s body tensed, but his face did not change. Tobio looked down at him.

“You are not the kind to be admired often. I wish to see what you have to offer, so are you not flattered?”

Hinata’s scowling shifted to a frown.

“Your hair,” the prince said, “What do they compare it to? Some type of flower? The fur of a certain animal, or the feather of a bird?”

His eyes went from the hair to the young face. He paused a moment, choosing to move past the nose freckles, down to the neck and shoulders.

“Your skin has no flaws. Like a young child,” he said low. The fingers of his left hand twitched. Familiar dry heat crept up his throat. His eyes aimed at the left jaw, cream colored and smooth like a candle.

“Let me feel for a likeness.”

Hinata pulled his head back when the hand inched for it.

“You—” His brow was confused. “You’re not good at this.”

Then he smirked.

The prince’s eyes blurred with rage. His face hardened, and Hinata had one moment to be afraid, before Tobio’s hand shot out to grab his chained wrists and pin them above his head. His knee pushed between the boy’s legs, forcing him onto his tiptoes. But Hinata still wasted no time in beginning to squirm. Before he could be kicked, the prince used his free hand to hold his thigh still, and Hinata’s lower body froze at the contact. But he turned his head away, and pressed hard against the column, keeping the tiniest space between their bodies. The prince leaned in. Hinata winced his eye shut.

For a second he only studied him. The skin was indeed without a blemish. The crinkle of his eye…the twitching lashes, short, thick…a blush of health high in the cheek...He took a small breath, inhaling a hint of the boy’s scent; it was enough to bring him closer. His nose brushed once against his cheek, and he teased with the lightest of breaths at his skin. Then he was stuck there, unable to fall into instinct, to let his stinging mouth find its way. Jerkily, his hand moved up the boy’s leg, pulling the skirt just an inch. Hinata turned and spit in his face.

“You—You filthy—Guh—”

He had released him to wipe it, and Hinata was already hiding on the other side of the pillar. There was real fear as he peeked around; the prince turned not in his direction, but the direction of the exit.

“I will be back,” he cried, “And you will be willing.”

The boy recovered himself in time to yell:

“It will never happen!”

To which Tobio clucked his tongue, and left.

 

A party of protestors had crossed the bridge over the moat, and been met on the path by a giant of a man, the palace’s premium guard. After a disorganized half a minute of squawking out their intentions, Hinata’s father quieted the small mass and wove to the front.

“We don’t mean to disturb the peace, kind sir. But your—Our—You see, my son Hinata was chosen by the prince—Uh, by Tobio-sama, for—for a certain purpose. And from what we understand, that purpose was to be—ful—fulfilled—last night. And now we wish for our boy to be released, we wish to speak to the prince about his return to us.”

“We’re prepared to make a trade!” A silver-haired young man had moved forward. “I will go in in his place. Or Daichi will.” He gestured to the man who had come up beside him. “Whoever the prince prefers.”

Hinata’s father stepped around to the front once again.

“That—is our most desperate offer. We want to ask the prince for his mercy. Will you please tell him we’re here. Hinata’s—The boy’s family.”

The guard stood perfectly still in his hulking frame, looking directly at his father with a browless face and a hard mouth. He made no sound. The mob shifted nervously. Tanaka Saeko leaned in to Hinata’s mother.

“I am also willing to go in his place. If I’d known he was going to choose the kid, either of the kids, I would’ve volunteered myself.”

“I would too,” Shirofuku said beside her. “And I would go now, but I don’t think my offer does you any good, as the prince already picked Hinata over me once.”

“We will not sacrifice the two of you, we are already in debt to you for coming here with us,” his mother answered.

Last night, after they had been returned to their homes and hugged for a few hours, Tanaka and Shirofuku had gone out in search of the Hinatas. They found Yachi already at the family’s house, as well as a dozen other neighbors consoling the shocked parents and distraught younger sister. This morning the two girls had joined the mission, and Tanaka had also brought along her younger brother, because he was up for any confrontation, even with trained palace guards.

“Have you been listening to us?”

It was Sugawara who broke the silence. The guard’s scowl seemed to deepen, though it was hard to tell. Daichi had one hand on the back of Sugawara’s shirt, ready to hold him back. The moment of tension dragged on.

Yachi’s parents were at the left side of the group, and her father squeezed his wife’s shoulder harder, as his throat tightened.

“Aren’t we even going to get past?” he said in a choked whisper. “Aren’t we allowed even to see him?”

There were two elderly women, neighbors of the Hinatas, at the back, as well as a young-looking man who was his friend Izumi’s father. One of the women said stoutly:

“Please.”

The guard gave no response.

Then a nervous shiver went through the group as they caught sight of someone running from the palace entrance. The man leapt, clearing the three stairs, and sprinted up to the silent guard. He grabbed his shoulder from behind and panted in his ear. They could not hear what he said.

“Aone. A—A—Others coming. Re—inforcements. I have—ah—Tooru-sama’s orders, are to—to—”

Futakuchi dropped fully into a whisper. Then he released Aone’s shoulder, and straightened up to survey the silent mob.

“Finally,” he smirked wickedly, “We will have some action!”

Just then five or six more guards came running from the palace. A frightened murmur ran through the protestors, and they pressed tighter together.

“But we’re not doing any harm!” an old lady cried.

“They are only trying to intimidate,” said Daichi. But he had his hand against Sugawara’s stomach, keeping him just a few inches behind.

“Weeell, well well,” the male Tanaka hummed. “Let’s show them what a real battle looks like.”

Daichi turned to glare at him. “Don’t start something when we don’t need to. And stop making that face.”

He turned once more to face the line of guards.

“There is no need to come against us like this,” Hinata’s father was saying. “We only want to see the prince, we will gladly do so under your supervision. Only one of us.”

“No one is given an audience to those inside the palace,” said Konoha, “Unless they are invited.”

“And there is a strict policy against vermin,” Futakuchi grinned.

“Well Hinata’s in there,” said Shirofuku. “Wait, I mean—They got my point, right?”

Her friend turned from her, and hollered: “Then how come we just watched you walk out of there?”

Her brother leered a grin. But it disappeared back into a scowl when Aone took a single step toward them. Once he had, the rest of the soldiers charged.

The next minute was a chaos of noise: screams, shouts, the sound of spear butts connecting with bodies. Punches were thrown by the Tanakas and Sugawara, but the rest only tried to shield themselves, or others around them.

Tanaka Saeko was busted above the eye with the jabbing end of Futakuchi’s spear, and was dazed for a moment, while Aone picked her up and carried her to the edge of the moat. He tossed her in. Still lightheaded, she could not resurface on her own. But instantly her friend was beside her, pulling her head above water and gripping her under one arm, while she pressed her other hand to Tanaka’s wound, keeping the blood from running into her eye. Then they watched Daichi flung in next to them, making a great splash. He bobbed up, shocked but fully conscious.

Even from as high as he was, Hinata could hear a commotion taking place outside. He pulled against the end of his chain, trying to reach a window. But he could not get close enough to look down. A woman’s long scream made him freeze, his skin crawl, his hair stand on end. His brow raised with concern, and his mouth dropped half open, as he stared out at the gray morning sky.

The two elderly women had screamed as they were thrown at the water. Daichi moved immediately toward them, and they clung to either of his shoulders, their heavy soaked dresses weighing on their frail frames.

Hinata’s father had been hit across the face, but other than this he remained unharmed. He had found himself on his stomach with Tanaka Ryuu on top of him, and they remained this way through the duration of the young man’s fight. When he felt the weight disappear, Hinata’s father rolled over, only to find the browless guard looming. He was picked up, and tossed like a grain sack into the moat. He burst up to the surface and called for his wife. Sugawara was helping her toward the opposite bank. She turned to him at the sound, and after catching sight of her, he screamed.

Her face was a horror of raw red, the birth of bruising. Already the corner of her mouth and one eye were swollen. She bled from the temple, all down the side of her face. Her husband clutched at his own head, feeling her pains, and he screamed again, high and cracking. As he swam for her, he shrieked:

“You—brutes! The gods take revenge on you. The gods—take…”

All members of the group were now at or nearing the outside bank. They began to struggle their way out of the moat.

 

When Tobio entered, his brother was alone at the breakfast table. He jumped up.

“Brother! I was hoping to see you this morning, but I did not expect you before breakfast, and that you would come in to me, rather than my seeking you out—”

Tooru eyed him a long moment. Then as the smile was creeping onto his lips, he gasped, eyes alight.

“Ohh—dear. I see that there was trouble.”

Tobio’s frown deepened sharply, flashed up in surprise, then was brought forcefully back down.

“What are you talking about? There was no trouble.”

Tooru laughed for real, and with the real smile.

“Do not worry yourself. You are in perfect hands.” He sat down, and gestured toward the seat on his right. “Sit, and speak your woes to your brother. You will have my sincerest efforts to help.”

Tobio turned and marched away, taking his usual seat at the opposite end of the table. It was not as great a distance as he would have liked; the breakfasting room had a smaller table than the dining halls. Tooru had his chin resting against his knuckles, and one eyebrow cocked at him.

“Go on, go on, and I will not interrupt.”

“There is no problem,” he growled.

“You are clearly still of a virginal nature, and that, in my opinion, is a problem. So to the details. Were you confused? Were your instincts a poor guide to you? I have always doubted whether they would serve you well in time of need, as you seem stunted in that capacity.”

“You know nothing,” said Tobio, more aggressive. “I will not discuss it, let alone with you.”

“Evasion is not unexpected, I assure you, given the damage to your pride. Were you dissatisfied, maybe? A more proper look did not reveal what you wanted? If it is that, nothing can be remedied more easily. Or—was it—a physical problem?” His gleaming eyes were terrors. “Do not tell me that, I beg you Tobio-chan, or I will no longer be able to spare your feelings. It would be far too ironic.”

“That is not the trouble in the least! The boy was not willing. He would not let me near him.”

“What?” he chuckled. “Were you expecting it to be easy? Ahh, wait. Was that the impression you got, from his volunteering?”

“No, I know the customs of his class and know they do not approve of ours. But he was stubborn, and remained so even during this morning. He would not be seduced.”

“Ahhhaha. Well, I can let you in on the knowledge that most of them are that way at first. Is that not the fun of it? Did you not feel a kind of thrill, Tobio?”

His brother’s eyes were iced over, but Tooru met them, and as he pinned him there, his cover melted away. Tooru caught enough glimpse to fathom an answer.

“Ah. No. You are not like that. You wanted a little resistance, of course, just to test your presence, your ability to intimidate. But after that you wanted him to give in, hm? Because of who you are, and what he is. He should be easily moved, is that it?”

“Enough.”

“Well, it is unfair to be angry with this boy, Tobio-chan, because…if he will not be seduced, the fault lies with you, who could not succeed in seducing him. Do not mistake me, I do not expect the level of efficiency that I have achieved, because this is your very first try—”

“And how many tries have you had?”

“That is a needless bit of information. What you should know is that I still have my first, the chosen piece from my own ceremony. The first is worth keeping, Brother, make no mistake. If only for the sentimental value…You do not want to go wrong with him. Your victory or defeat will stay with you.”

Tobio stood up.

“Why is this a game to you? The behavior you have so far displayed during your training is more suited to jester than king! As crown prince you should concern yourself with the happenings of this palace, but I as my own self have a right to rule my affairs, and what I do in that position is not to be any business of yours. For once in your life, leave me alo—”

He had caught sight of Shimizu, just entering the room. There was something about the queen’s presence that always succeeding in holding him down, be it anger or nervousness; she had a stilling effect. Except for now, as she looked at him and tilted her head in the most majestic way possible.

“Prince Tobio, what happened to your nose?”

His brother stifled a snort into his hand. Tobio swept past her and out of the room. But he had to stop short in his raging, because he was met by his servant Ennoshita.

“Majesty! Good morning.” Bow. “I was coming to check for you at breakfast.”

“What is it?”

“The name, Majesty. We got it.”

“Already? What is the name?”

“Yes, we didn’t have to do much searching for it. You have likely heard of the commotion just this morning at the bridge.”

“I did not hear of it,” he said.

“Well, just as we were heading out to begin our search, there was a confrontation taking place between the guards and some villagers. Apparently it was the boy’s family, and friends, coming to demand his release.”

“What happened? Was my brother told? He said nothing about it.”

“Yes, he simply ordered them beaten, until they were discouraged enough to prevent their return. But before that, they were asking for the boy, and we heard the name, as if the gods gifted us. His name is Hinata.”

 

All day he distracted himself with menial tasks, those which were Tooru’s, but beneath his notice. He oversaw the hanging of a new portrait of the Little Prince. He visited the worksite of the new aqueduct in the neighborhood of some nobles. He did three different exercise sessions. It was not until early nightfall that he made a return to his chambers.

The boy was facing the entrance this time. Where he sat, he was rhythmically falling against the wall and bouncing back off. He wore what the prince had picked out: a blush pink silk top, which tied around the neck, and embraced each arm with a gauzy strap, leaving his shoulders bare. Tobio was startled from his observation when Hinata stood up, glaring at him. The prince raised his chin.

“Turn around. Hinata.”

At the name, his shoulders hunched, his fists squeezed, and his expression changed, into one even almost frightening. He spoke loud and firm.

“You unchain me. Now. Give me real clothes, not these fancy paper ones like I’m a doll. And let me go.”

“You do not respect my requests,” said Tobio, “So why would I respect yours?”

“Your request is disgusting! Mine is to be treated like what I am, a human being, not to be dressed like a doll, and chained like a pet, and used like a toy! I don’t belong here and I hate this place and you better—”

“Silence! You have nothing to gain by refusing. You cannot escape and there is nothing for you but to serve your purpose.”

“That is not my purpose! Just because _you_ say it is, that doesn’t mean anything to me because I own me, I make my own choices and—”

“I am your ruler! I own this land and all in it! You are mine now, so you _will_ li—”

“I said I won’t! I’m not going to!”

“Then you are a fool! You will cause your own pain, it is needless if you would obey my wishes.”

“I—do not—have to obey you. I’m me and that’s the only thing I’m in charge of, and I’m not giving it up! My purpose is to keep you from having your way, because you have no right to take something that’s only mine to give, and I’ll fight you with everything I have. And I won’t lose!”

The prince felt urging in his chest, and closed the gap between them. As he walked forward, Hinata stepped back and pressed against the wall. But he was still scowling, and still his chest was stuck out, his shoulders squared. Tobio put his hands above him on the wall, and looked down. The boy craned his neck to glare at him.

“I—…”

He was distracted for a moment by the eyes. And the scent, once again, that he now named a mixing of wet soil, bed curtains, and some hint of sugary fruit. And the heat which he imagined he could feel, coming from the tiny angry body, that he wanted to push against, melt his hands to…

“I—do not lose,” he said finally. Hinata was still meeting his eyes. They glowered back and forth.

Until Tobio pushed away from the wall, and retired to his bed. He turned back toward him, to shut the curtains, then remained standing, staring at the swaying fabric. Hinata stood outside and glared at the spot where he had disappeared.

 

In the early afternoon on the next day, Prince Tobio was discovered in a lonely hall at the back of the palace. Tooru appeared at the end of the corridor, and clucked his tongue, making his brother look up. Tooru shook his head and clucked again as he approached.

“We expected you at breakfast. And the visit to Father. And I even would have offered an invitation to the meeting with the security council. But I have not seen you.”

“I do not wish to be seen.”

“I am here to help you, Brother. That is all. Ask for what you need.”

“I need nothing of yours. I want nothing of yours.”

“No matter the way you have failed, it can be undone, with proper management. You must take heart. Take some of mine, for yourself, if you are no longer strong enough to manufacture—”

“It is not my weakness that prevents it! He has not been here long enough for his fate to break him.”

“Wait for the break, is your plan? Give him the time, instead of bending him to the will of yours? That is what you would choose, rather than to break him yourself?”

“His determination is high, and he grows bolder the longer he is here, but it is still nothing, and I will not stoop to it, I will not grovel as you do!”

“An artless beggar is how you think of me? Tobio-chan, you know even less than I give you credit for. Do I get what I want from my servants by groveling? Do I get what I want from Father, or from you, that way?” He slanted his chuckling eyes. “But neither do I get it by doing nothing, and you certainly will not. You will have to make the effort, and you will feel better for it anyway.”

“Your effort causes these people to believe they are worth just that. I will give him no such attention. Should he not be begging it of me? Should one of blood so low not see his position as the highest honor he could reach? It may be his disgrace, so be it, but I will not make it mine!”

Tooru’s head tilted as he looked at him. He reached out, as was his habit, and brushed his brother’s bangs with the backs of his fingers.

“I am sorry. I seem to have underestimated you, a little. You want to play the game. Considering you are bound to be a poor competitor, I did not expect it, but how lucky then that you have me as your ally. You do not want to force your desire on him, you want rather to feel a desire on his part, for you. Yet you have chosen someone not prepared to show such feelings, and now the burden falls to you to draw it out of him. For you, Tobio, it will be a burden indeed.”

“Must I be slandered before I am helped?” his brother said. “I will not take that bargain.”

“After your willful rudeness am I not entitled to a little _groveling_ from you?” His mouth simpered. “At the very least, I require a more detailed explanation of the situation in question. Do enlighten me.”

“There is nothing but what I have already told you. He holds fast to the belief system of his people and sees it as a wrong, and will not allow it to happen.”

“Yes, yes, what else?” he smirked.

“He demands to be released, and resorts immediately to violence when I come near.”

“Mmhm?”

“I went to the trouble of finding out his name, but my use of it further offended him.”

“Ahh. That was certainly a mistake. The name, with its representation of an individual, should always be used to advantage. You have wasted a very good game piece. But do not fear, I will tell you what to do now. I know his kind, and with one like him, there is an inborn competitive nature. The most obvious way that this nature finds release is through pride. And in this case, because of what the boy is, his pride’s need for an opponent has been satisfied by directing it—at you. His people, against yours. In this situation, the only way to gain power over your opponent is to first give the power to him.”

He smirked broadly at the darkened brow.

“I know you do not like the sound of that, Brother. I assure you that this method will bring you the last laugh, once the stronger hand has returned to you. But for now, you must make him feel wanted, by you, until the time—whose duration depends on your effectiveness—until the time comes when he wants you in return. That is your wish, correct?”

“My wish is only for his compliance.”

“Yes, and for that you will have to make a sacrifice to his vanity.”

“I know that he is not the kind to be flattered.”

“Everyone,” Tooru said, “Can be flattered. A cruel trick, but it is our nature to enjoy it. Let me show you.”

He placed his hand on Tobio’s shoulder, to prevent him from turning as he moved around to stand behind him. Now they were both facing the tall, heavily framed mirror on the wall. They looked at each other’s reflections.

“You, Tobio-sama. Born with an admirable surety as to your place. And always rising to meet its demands.”

His fingers curled more firmly against Tobio’s left shoulder, and he moved his head over to the right of the young prince.

“These shoulders—have never known a moment of stupor. Have they.”

Tobio’s eyes flickered in the mirror, off his brother’s face and onto the place where he touched him. He pulled them back to Tooru.

“Some of our acquaintances may laugh at you—”

The younger’s scowl hardened.

“—but they do not laugh on the inside. They do know, Tobio, what you are capable of.”

He looked at his own blue eyes, with their sharp shine, that he himself had never figured out. It was not intelligence, he had never been considered that…He blinked fast and darted back to Tooru’s reflection, who he did not like to let out of his sight too often. His brother had not moved, and was half smiling.

“You are feared,” he said, “like a shadow. Talked of, but unnamed. And to the boy, you are a danger. Because you could be his protector, if you so choose. Part of him sees your strength, and craves it, and because he cannot have it, wants it for his shelter. But he also knows—”

His other hand crept to Tobio’s right shoulder, and he let out a cold breath as he passed his neck, his head emerging on the other side. He had almost completely hidden himself behind Tobio, so that the younger body shared no part of the mirror.

“He knows—that you could also hurt him. He knows that all threats aside, one like you could pillage, take all you want. Yet he is conflicted, as he sees you more and more, as he looks at you…”

Tobio stared.

“Because he begins to wonder—if there is a part of him—which wants that.”

His eyes were fixed now on his own reflection, and he did not notice when his brother’s disappeared. After a moment he finally turned and looked back into real life. Tooru was moving away down the hall, smirking to himself.

 

Tobio came after dark, directly from a long swim against the river current. He was bathed, and by his orders dressed in his usual nightwear, a tan cloth around his waist, which fell to his knees at the front but was shorter and lighter in the back. The boy had never seen him bare-chested, as he almost always was in his daily life, and he assumed this must have some effect, to someone built so differently. Not only this, but he was prepared to talk to him, prepared to flatter.

Hinata lay on his side, with his back to the door. He said his name. The boy did not move.

“Oi.”

There was no response. Tobio approached, slowly but assertively, waiting for him to turn. But he did not. The prince reached him, and looked down to discover him asleep. His knees rested together, and his shackled wrists huddled at his chest. The loose legs of his brown and green romper fell up in the back, to reveal the stretch-marked hamstrings under his perky cheeks. This detail was worth only an instant of observation. Tobio bent and leaned over him, down toward his face, steadying himself with his left hand on the wall. His eyes were hungry, as they moved over and back, again and again.

A small puff of lips, the bottom pouting out with the easing exhales. How he wanted his own lips to drag down against it, feeling the warmth, and wet. Thin brows, but strongly shaped, now relaxed into an expression he had not seen before. And that which was most responsible for his youthful look: the cheek, plush, heated from cozy sleep. He could not keep from putting his palm to it. He pressed down, down, harder than he had meant, for it was supple and firm under the soft surface, and he wished to cup the other, to hold both and hide them from all other eyes.

The hair. His fingers moved up, across the temple, and slid into the warm silk, from which the hand came away in an instant. It was so very soft, even more than he could imagine as he looked at it. He reached for the top of the head, and let his hand down into it, the fluff so deep that the joints of his fingers disappeared. It reminded him almost of the small ferretish creature which his brother had kept as a pet, for a few weeks of their childhood. He moved his hand through the hair, pushing unconsciously with his palm, and was bending on his way to take in its scent when the boy started.

His eyes were huge and alive instantly, and his knee barely missed the prince’s chin as he leapt up and darted behind the pillar, taking shelter on its other side. When he peeked around, it was with the familiar yet unique expression, in which his brow certainly scowled, but the eyes betrayed a shine of keen attention. The shine said plainly that he was not a natural talent for reading people, but that he was trying very hard. This was near the opposite of his brother’s tendency, Tobio noted, and even aside from the prince’s purpose tonight, it pleased him to have noticed it.

Tobio had decided to remain in his crouched form, so as not to threaten him with movement, but as he looked up, he found he did not like their positioning. Of course it seemed out of order to him. So he stood up, to reach his above height. But he elected to turn his back, and lean a casual shoulder against the wall, as he spoke to him.

“Your hair is softer than expected.”

Hinata pulled back to hide himself completely behind the column.

“My being asleep doesn’t give you permission to touch it,” he said. “Besides, my mother’s told me that a hundred times.”

“Has she ever told you she wanted to tear it from your head?”

There was a choking sound which made Tobio look over his shoulder. He could not see the boy, but he judged it to be a held back snort.

“Yes, she’s said that to me before. She’s done that to me before.”

The prince turned his back again, checking his irritation, and surprise, at the near laughter.

“What side of your family is it passed down from?”

“It’s not p—It’s none of your business!”

“So you are special.”

“I—didn’t say that,” he mumbled.

“Were you betrothed, before you left your village? Were you promised to anyone?”

“What does that matter, it makes no difference to you.”

“Was it the little blond girl?”

“No! I said she was my friend, we’re not like that and we’re not even old enough to be engaged! You are such a creep.”

Tobio ignored the insult, feeling content with the direction they would now go, and he took one easy breath before he spoke again.

“You must have plans to be betrothed in the future.”

“No I don’t.”

“Offers, then.”

“No.”

“I do not believe you. You are able-bodied and have an independent mind, that can be all that is wanted for a laboring race. And if the consideration were to include everything else, you cannot argue against your being a desirable companion.”

“Now you really sound like my mother,” was the reply.

Tobio’s shoulder tensed against the wall, but he fought to continue an even voice.

“Your face is—a—not an unpleasant one.”

“How kind of you, Osu.”

“Do not—…I mean that you would not be a chore to look at. That I know to be a desired trait among any people.”

“You’re wrong. Some people don’t care about appearances.”

“That is a lie. There are no such people.”

“That is not a lie!”

The chain scraped the floor, and made Tobio turn his head. Hinata had revealed himself again.

“We don’t just go around and _steal_ the prettiest person we can find, in my culture we don’t do this when we’re seventeen we do it when we’re ready because we marry someone we know very well, someone we’re in love with! And when you love them then they are beautiful to you no matter what they truly look like! I—Guuuuh, I hate you so much! Don’t talk to me anymore, I hate you!”

He went behind the pillar and sat down. Tobio continued to stare at the spot, acutely conscious of the angry flames licking inside his chest. It was not what the boy had said that disturbed him. It was the fact that by the end of his speech, his eyes were brimming with tears. In Tobio’s mind it was a miserable failure to create tears where the aim was a blush of pleasure.

“I have not harmed you, and you hate me,” he said slowly. “I offer praise, and it upsets you.”

“I know what you’re doing, I’m not an idiot, you idiot! I know you say those things so that I’ll—do—things with you!”

Tobio finally turned his body around. “What things?”

“None. I won’t do any of it, ever.”

The prince moved slowly, silently toward the pillar.

“I am only saying what should already be known to you,” he said quietly. “You were selected, you know the reasons.”

“If I did I would have changed them. So I never had to come here.”

“Change—” he touched the pillar “—your hair? Its uniqueness? Change your body? Its fitness, the smoothness of your skin?”

He was creeping around the back side of the column, and lowering his voice more and more.

“Your eyes? H—”

He had brought them up without thinking, but there were not words known to him that could describe them. He stood with his face just hidden around the side of the pillar, with an open mouth and unsettled eyes. Hinata wore a frown, but it was light, and aimed at the ground. The long silence seemed to break him from his thoughts, and he looked over, and saw the prince.

Within a blink he was on his feet and as far away as the chain would allow. His eyes snarled, and one side of his lip curled; on the same side, his nose twitched into a scrunch.

“Stay—away.”

Tobio’s eyes narrowed to slits, and he did not hold back the scathing from his voice.

“I like it better when you are asleep. You do not wear an ugly expression.”

“Well I like it better when you’re asleep,” Hinata said. “Then I don’t have to listen to you!”

“It would be wise to learn to appreciate my company, as it is all you will have.”

“Choosing between you and none at all is easy enough!”

“I have done you no harm since the time you entered this chamber.”

He grabbed the chain in both hands and forced the boy within a foot of him, leaning so that their faces were even closer.

“But rest assured, if it is necessary—” His eyes sparked back at the brown ones. “I can, and will, hurt you.”

“I already told you—” Hinata jerked the chain free. “It _will_ be necessary.”

The prince stalked past him to the four-poster. Hinata slid down the column to a seat on the floor, and watched Tobio struggle to close the curtains around him. The one in his right hand was snared, and as he jerked on it his eyes sought again for the boy. Hinata’s mouth twisted nastily under his shadowed brow. Tobio’s fist tightened, and he tore the curtain cleanly away from its hangings. As it fell heavily, he turned and stormed through the back side curtains, and out of the chamber.

After a wait of a few seconds, Hinata moved on his knees toward the piled curtain. Once the chain had stopped him there was still a gap to close, so he stretched himself out on his belly and reached with the tips of his toes, to slide the fabric close to him. He pulled it over to the column and bunched it up under his head. Then he lay there with open eyes, watching the distant doorway across the room.

It remained empty.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm a piece of crap

It was the third day after the ceremony. Tobio had spent all morning and the early afternoon wandering in the garden. This was the amount of time required for him to gather up the peace of mind to face his brother. A sleepless night had put him at the end of his patience, but it was no amount of delusion that motivated him to reach out for help.

He wanted the boy.

As he returned to the front of the garden, to reenter the palace, he met his sister-in-law, seated perfectly still on a stone block, among periwinkle blossoms the size of her head. He started, and reddened weakly as she turned undaunted eyes on him.

“Shimizu-san.” He tilted his head in a bow. “Do you know where I may find my brother?”

“He has already gone to the river.”

“Ah. That is where I will go, then.”

He bowed slightly again, and left her.

The king’s riverboat was two decks, with a high extending canvas roof over top. Its wood was stained a rich red-brown, and polished to an obscene smoothness. The boat remained tethered to the dock, which meant that it still lacked guests, but even so the lower deck was mildly crammed with loud and giggly nobles. Only one or two were drunk at present, and the mass parted and fell quiet the moment they recognized the prince, as if he were a specter passing among them.

Tobio climbed the steps to the upper deck. It was less crowded there, and his brother was easily visible where he sat in his high-backed, heavily adorned chair.

“Tooru-san.”

His head turned.

“What? Is this my dearest brother, come to bare his baser instincts like all the rest? Hanamaki, tell me who this is we see before us.”

“It is certainly your brother who humbles us with his presence.”

“Wine, quickly,” said the prince. “It may take even more than we have, to keep him here, but I will do my very best.”

“I am in need of your advice,” Tobio said, over the noise of the panicking servants.

“Ah, I should have known! You are the only one who would come to my party on serious business. But this makes more sense. I worry that the atmosphere would be beyond your comfort, given the present state of things.” He winked.

“We will speak in private.”

“I suppose that is appropriate, assuming the object of your concern is still contained within your private rooms. Follow.”

Tooru spoke as they walked.

“I do not understand you, Brother. I always believed you much more forward, or, to the point, than you are proving to be. I intended to have you as my general, but you are making me hesitate. Here we are.”

He gestured, and Tobio entered the room, then turned around to keep an eye on him. Tooru shut the door. He was wearing one of his more brilliant smirks.

“This is a specially guarded room. I keep it empty, in case I have the urge to do more than what I wish my drunken friends to see. And,” he purred, “It has an air of luck about it, for such things. I will lend it to you for the night, and it may give you the bit of—push you need.”

“It will be of no use to me,” he said.

“Ah! Really you surprise me, Brother. To give up so easily—”

“That is not what I am doing. This—To convince—It is clearly not a skill, but a talent,” he said to the floor, “And I—do not have it.”

Tooru observed him for a moment.

“Hm. Sensible. Another way will likely be much faster. But…how…”

He was gazing absently at the mural on the ceiling, when suddenly his eyes focused, and he smiled.

“Ah. Listen to this, Tobio. I knew right away that there were similarities between your choice and mine. The young man I selected at my ceremony, you must remember him, though it seems like ages. Strong arms. Darker skin than most of their race. Just as much pride in his face, in his status, as I had in mine. And he has—or had—a spark, that reminds me of your pet’s.”

“Do not—call it that.”

Tooru slanted an eyebrow at him, and continued.

“But I realize now that there are key differences between the two. My Bara-chan was strong-willed, to be sure. It took until nearly dawn to get what I wanted from him. But he was older, both actually and in spirit, than yours. He was at a different time of life, because you see, he was engaged to be married.”

Tobio’s eyes flinched.

“He held out, for most of the night. But given my persistence, it became clear to him that there would be no escape but through me. So he begged, as proud and strong as he was—Begged me to let him return to her. I asked if she would still accept him, if he went back spoiled…He said that she would, and he did not hesitate. So I promised that after I had gotten what I wanted, he would go free. But there was something too sharp about him. I knew he did not believe me. Yet, he understood what he had to do, so in the end it amounted to the same thing.”

“Why did this become tale-telling of your dearly admired private life?”

“Hm hm,” he chuckled. “Here is my point, Brother. Your redhead is young. Impressionable. He is childish enough for this situation to pass off as an adventure, and for our palace to be a wonder, if you show it in the right light. Do so, but bear in mind that you, that Prince Tobio, is the ultimate wonder. That is what you must have him see.”

His face was blank. Tooru laughed.

“Maybe a wonder, but a hopeless one. Have you had the boy taken for his exercise? I do it with all of mine. It is a good way to have the palace shown to him. And it will keep him looking well. Unless you plan to fatten him up on table scraps, and use his immobility to advantage.”

Tobio glared in disgust, and moved past him to the door. They entered the hall and walked in opposite directions.

“Oh, and Brother,” Tooru called, without either of them turning around. “Until now I have kept quiet about your little predicament, but for my continued silence you will owe me return payment.”

“No.”

“Yes yes, but not immediately. I have yet to determine its form. When I have, I will come to collect.”

“I do not care what you will say.”

“Do not tell such lies, Tobio-chan, your chibi is to make an honest man of you!”

 

Shortly after the meeting between brothers, servants came to the prince’s chamber. Hinata knew what it meant and riled instantly, until he saw that they were bringing a bed. Then he quietly watched them lay down the woven mat, and neatly tuck a sheet around it. But then their attention turned to him, and when they approached in the familiar way, closing in from each of four sides, he raised his voice to highest power.

“No! Stay back! I won’t—do it, I won’t do it!”

He lunged violently, scaring them back one by one, shrieking and snarling, this time even cursing them by the gods. But with three pairs of hands they managed to contain him, though not to keep him still. Ennoshita, who was attempting to remove the silk outfit without ripping it to pieces, huffed a weary sigh.

“Will you ever be tired of fighting us? By now you are used to it.”

“I’m used to disliking it, just as much this time as the others!”

“But look, what we have for you now is not bad at all. See, a linen shirt, and simple shorts.”

The boy looked at the grey material, and back at Ennoshita, cocking his head.

“Why?”

“You will be exercised today.”

His stare had a mix of indignation and curiosity. Then all heads turned, at the roar of greetings and insults that rolled through the doorway with the guards. They stalked in on long, toned legs, looming eagerly over the redheaded boy.

“The infamous beast,” said Terushima. “I have never seen it up close.”

He squeezed Hinata’s cheeks, and tilted his face up, before he was forced to lunge away from snapping teeth.

“Ah! He plays the part generously.”

“We must switch the shackles from his hands to his feet,” said Konoha. “And you should be his walker, Terushima. Our Futakuchi has had too much trouble with him.”

“I must have the chance to give back what I have gotten,” the brunette said, with a faultless grin.

“Then hold the chain, while I remove it from here.” Kinoshita stepped to the pillar, and began to unhook the links from themselves.

“Little Red is quick, and strong for a moment or two,” Futakuchi was saying. “We must work to build up his stamina. Then you will be a real treat for the prince. That is if—”

The chain slid down the column. It hit the floor with an uneven clink. And in the same second, Hinata was gone.

He was out of the chamber before anyone had said a word. Futakuchi was the first to react.

“The gods do so to me, if I do not make you pay dearly for this!”

He charged out.

“Idiot,” Ennoshita said. The others had immediately looked to him, and he spoke curtly. “Cut off the exits. Konoha to the front entrance. Terushima, the garden. Kino and Watari follow the boy up, Narita and I will go down.”

The pairs split and rushed out after the guards.

Hinata was zooming along tight corridors and passages, through bright, hot patches of sunlight pouring through the many windows. His chain swung along behind him, and as he tore around corners and it janged against walls, it sounded merry. Indeed he was running from danger, and he was not free yet, but he was alone in the palace, a blur of rich paintings and hangings, and glimpses of a pretty white sun outside. It felt like years since he had run his fastest; the fields and his friend Yachi seemed far back in his mind. He grinned down at his speeding feet, and pumped his arms harder. He failed to notice that his left turn was bringing him into darkness.

He entered a great hall, lit only by torches, with a looming ceiling shrouded in black. Hinata did not see the tall, spindly man slinking near the wall, and would have been forever oblivious of his existence, had the man not flashed from the shadows and stomped down on the end of his chain.

Hinata’s arms jerked to the side, and he cried out as pain seared up his shoulders. His own force had spun him completely around, and he landed hard on his elbows. He rolled onto his side, throbbing with aches.

“Ahh…”

Then he woke back to half awareness, and turned his head, cocking his eyes up at his captor. The man wore a dark brown tunic, that displayed four grotesquely lanky limbs. His hair stood straight up. He seemed to be smirking.

“Oooohoo, Tobi-sama’s—chibi!”

The sight of the crinkled lips cracking open had made his skin crawl, and Hinata staggered to his feet. But as soon as he had, the man started to pull on the chain, reeling in the struggling boy.

“Seems you have escaped your master, and on such teeny legs, like a miracle boy!”

Hinata jerked his arms side to side, but the chain was tight and hardly swung. As he was pulled near to the willowy figure, his mind went blank, dispelling the instinct to fight. The man leaned down over him, and Hinata bent back, staring up at the face.

“Should not be sneaking through the palace, should you. Do you know only naughty playthings run away? Hmmmm?”

He had dazed eyes, and a mouth with a sinister twist. Hinata felt he was in the presence of a character from his nightmares. He was terrified and couldn’t feel his limbs.

Long boney fingers stretched out, at a horrifyingly slow pace, then with sudden violence squeezed his cheeks.

“But your hair is not as red as mine, Chibi Cheeks!”

He was released, but the man’s fingers continued to brush along one side of his face, and the lazy eyes blinked fast.

“Haaaa what a precious, a precious heart to break!”

“Satori.”

It was the voice of Prince Tobio. He had appeared down the hall from them. At this distance, as he stood so erect, so serious, with a pleated blue skirt, and a single gold band around his bicep, he looked as regal as Hinata could imagine anyone looking. He felt a new kind of fear.

“Majesty! I have found something of yours.”

The man cocked his head at Tobio, farther and farther, into a ridiculous angle. The prince held out his hand. Satori glided and slunk across the floor to him, releasing slack on the chain as he went. When he reached him, he bowed, and presented him with the end. Tobio took it.

“Go,” he said.

Satori put his hands behind him, and took backwards steps. The prince turned from both of them, and began to lead Hinata away. The boy stared at the man as he passed. Satori wagged his finger at him. Then he turned away abruptly, only to bend himself over backwards, smile and watch Hinata leave.

He continued to check over his shoulder, even as they entered a different hall. He also glanced in front of him, at the stiff, grooved back; he dared not struggle when the prince was on the other end of the chain. Hinata was being allowed to walk the full length from him, putting them almost half a hall from one another. The prince still looked ahead, as he spoke.

“He is my brother’s servant. Keep away from him. Do not listen to what he says.”

Hinata twitched thoughtful eyebrows. He swallowed, and said:

“If he’s your brother’s servant…I never want to meet your brother.”

“No. Keep away from him also.”

When Tobio spoke again, Hinata was looking around at the collage of tapestries, on which were painted a progressively taller and more handsome pair of boys, one black-haired, one brown. He hardly listened.

“I was attempting to show you kindness, by allowing you to leave the chamber. You took advantage of it. Do you not think that deserves a punishment?”

The boy looked fast at him. Before he could reply, they heard loud footsteps, and watched a guard appear around the corner.

“Majesty! A—Ahh…”

He leaned to look past the prince, at the redhead who met Futakuchi’s eyes, and scowled. He glared back, then straightened up to face his ruler.

“The boy tried to escape,” he said. Then his head lowered. “And—almost succeeded.”

“Finish your job.”

With that, Tobio held out the chain. When Futakuchi had taken it in hard fists, the prince walked away.

 

The unexpected sighting of the boy had been exactly the event that Tobio’s sluggish lust needed to activate its full capacity. With the image renewed, the remainder of daylight saw him consumed with the details of the boy’s face and figure, and by the time night fell, he had thought himself into a state as near excitement as he had ever been. There was irritation, yet boldness, and a craving, the combination being new to him and one that he did not begin to think of stifling.

It may well have been that he had never had a true desire. Now was his first taste of having that coveted power, which his brother was so used to, that power to fulfill his own, his every, wish.

“Good evening Ma—”

“Has he been bathed?”

“Yes.”

“Changed?”

“Yes.”

“I need nothing more. Watch the door as always.”

“Yes Majesty.”

Kinoshita was pulling on his skirt, struggling to force the tight waistband over his hips.

“Quickly,” he said.

Hinata heard the voices in the other chamber, and was already on his feet and looking at the doorway, when the prince entered.

“Hinata.”

His voice was short and low. The boy’s face jumped to even greater annoyance, but it was not unattractive. On the contrary, the life in his expression, the aggressive knit of brow and slit of eye, spurred Tobio on. He walked up, to mere feet from him.

Tonight, by his orders, the boy wore white. His shirt, short sleeves and a gentle, modest neckline, was of the standard style except that it cut off above his waist, and the ivory material was overlaid with lace. Attached to the bottom of the shirt was a skirt of white see-through mesh. It ran over his bare waist, widening as it fell to his ankles. At the bottom, Tobio could see the place where it had been hemmed to adjust to the boy’s height. A second satiny white skirt, visible under the mesh, started at his hips and hugged closely all the way down over his knees. It was a cut that highlighted his short, solid legs in an expert way. The mesh blended against his pale skin.

“Turn—”

“No! I’m tired of this! Of being changed all the time, into clothes that aren’t clothes at all, of you looking at me in a way I don’t like, and trying to see things you shouldn’t, of being cold and uncomfortable when I sleep—”

“That is no one’s fault but your own. You are expected to be without them by the time you go to sleep.”

Hinata’s mouth opened, but it was as far as he managed to get; a dark, blooming blush took over his cheeks, and though his brow glared, his eyes were weak and did not contribute. The result was a Prince Tobio who had never been in greater heat.

“Tonight,” he said, in almost a groan, “You will do what I want.”

“No. I won’t.”

“Yes, you will.”

Hinata read the prince’s hooded eyes, the red in his neck, the dryness of his parted lips. His own eyes boiled.

“I said no,” he shouted, and leapt behind the column.

With his back pressed to the curving stone, he realized he had made a fatal mistake. In this position he could not know the way Tobio would come from. He raced through his mind’s eye, trying to remember which side the prince had been closer to. Then he crept to his right, farther around the back of the pillar. His feet made no sound, but the chain scraped just softly against the floor. He glanced back to the left, then to the right.

He saw a stepping leg.

Hinata had blasted away in two steps, but Tobio was quick as lightning to grab the chain, and Hinata’s own force sprawled him painfully onto the floor. As he struggled to suck a breath through his surprised chest, the prince was already on top of him, with a knee pressing down on each spread thigh, and a terribly strong grip locking his cuffed hands over his head.

“A—ow—”

The prince’s softly sculpted face was incredibly determined, and his weight did not waver even as Hinata arched his back, even as his legs vibrated uselessly in an attempt to kick. Tobio leaned. Hinata’s eyes were an oil fire, exploding over and over. He jerked his head to the side. But the prince had one free hand, and his fingers dug into each cheek as he tilted the face back to him. Hinata shut his eyes and stretched his mouth tight.

Both backed by a burning, of two different feverish heats, their lips met. Tobio’s melted out, puddling overtop, as behind his eyelids beads of pressure pinched and popped. A fuzzy ache built up in his head, as he sucked in the scent, and as the body quivered under him. He pulled his top lip down a fraction, pressing more surface against the hot tremble. Inside him the pools of heat were so rich it was almost unpleasant. More of it might kill him. Yet, oh the gods, he wanted more of it—

But the boy’s lips were pulled thin, taunt, leaving no slack to work with. There was no pout to pucker around, to push wide, to mix wet with. The flame in his throat died. This was not what he wanted.

He sat back. And suddenly all he could see, all he could sense, was the terrified brown of the huge mooning eyes, shockingly hot, and smothering themselves, stifling their own screams in more petrifying fear. Tobio rocked his body to the side and got off him. The boy sat up, turned, and knelt by the wall, pressing himself against it, but keeping his head turned to the prince.

Hinata had never shown genuine fear of him, fear that he did not look like he could overcome if he had to. He clung to the wall still staring, his head hanging back, his brows high in painful shock. He was trying to keep quiet his haggard breathing. Tobio kept looking at him, his stomach crawling, his neck hot in a much different way than before. Finally he turned away, and moved toward his bed.

The boy sat down and spun on his bottom, pushing his back hard against the wall and squeezing his knees to his chest. His huffed breaths were still lurching him forward a small amount; after their rhythm had slowed, Hinata released his knees and put his hands up into his hair, pulling at clumps. He used his arm to wipe at the corner of his eye, from which tears were slipping. Then he let go of his orange fluff, and turned and looked out the window, at a sky not yet black, but the darkest, richest blue, flecked with brilliant silver spots in groups of thousands.

He let out an icy sigh. And his eyes, with the brown that could live so many different lives, were sad. Tobio, unbeknownst to the boy, was watching through the opening in the curtains. He felt ill. He got up and rushed around the bed, through the back and to the exit. When he reached the second chamber, he broke into a run.

He ran through the palace, taking a long route down to the front entrance, where he startled the guards as he flew past them.

“Ya—Who are y—Majesty?”

He did not pause, and kept running through the dark. When he had no more breath, he stopped. He bent over, pressing a hand to his aching head. He had the wish to vomit, but not the urge, so he stooped there huffing loudly.

“Kuh huh, kuh huh, kuh huh…”

Other noises came to his ear, laughter and the sound of pipe instruments. He shook his hair from his eyes and saw the great riverboat, strung heavily with burning lanterns, moving up the stream toward him. His brother’s festivities were still going on, or rather, getting into full swing. The boat swayed as the mass of drunken nobles moved around its deep floor. Tobio straightened up, glaring at it.

“You…liar,” he whispered.

Then a ragged wave of laughter rolled to him across the water, that sound that raised the hair on his neck, and heated his cheeks automatically, that sound that he hated in his churning guts. But this time, something in his chest plunged violently, and his vision was blinded, by a loathing of himself. This body, he hated it, with its weak dependence, its insistence for things so crude, so without glory. He hated its command of the maroon in his cheek, the shake of his raging fist, the lungs that tired so pathetically. He would throw this body into the river.

He did not. When the party noise reached him again, he turned and ran ahead of the boat, away into the darker night.

 

On his fourth day of captivity, Hinata was taken again to the royal exercising room. Yesterday he had been semi-secretly eager to try out each of the intricate machines. But today he had eyes only for the corner contraption, canvas stretched out over a series of smoothed logs, what they called the treading mill.

However, rather than relieving some of his pent-up stress, he became even more infuriated as he ran. The heavy shackles on his ankles made full freedom of stride impossible, and often, always when he least expected it, the chain would smack against the back of his heel. It made him angrier and angrier, and he ran harder, and harder. He was looking out at the blue sky, the green fields, the sparkling river, but he ran and ran and could get no closer.

Futakuchi was lazing on his stomach behind the machine, holding one of the chains. Lev sat next to him and held the other. He was telling an animated tale of this morning’s adventures with a cat, to a listless comrade.

“Watching the two of you,” the brunette muttered, “Is not a fair punishment, considering that the boy did not actually escape. And there he goes again.”

Hinata had lurched into an even faster pace. His breathing was now louder than his pounding feet.

“He’s fast, isn’t he Futakuchi-san? Almost as fast as me, probably.”

“What Lev, you idiot. With the blessing of the gods you would not be faster than him.”

“Yes I would. I have long legs, and I’d pass right by him.”

“I bet my life that you would not. And do not bet yours. Hey, Red.”

Futakuchi flicked the chain, so that it came down once again on his heel. Hinata’s head flinched an inch to the left, to eye him, as he sped to an even faster gear.

“Do you see this? You are telling me you could beat that in a race?”

“And if I was there,” Lev said, “The boy would not have escaped from us. I would have caught him before the prince, and not gotten in trouble as you did, Futakuchi-san.”

“Why, you little—”

There was a harsh thump on the machine, as Hinata’s shift turned their heads to him. He had sped up. The eyes of the guards became glazed orbs, reflecting the blur of tiny feet, moving at unbelievable speed. The pounding was now the only sound, as the boy’s breaths came in barely gasps, few and far between. Futakuchi opened his mouth, taking a moment to form the words, to tell him to stop. Then the boy collapsed.

He lay on his face on the stopped contraption, his body tightening with horrible strangled wheezes. Futakuchi snorted, and a few chuckles hopped out his throat, but then he quieted again. The guards watched his shaky effort to raise his head.

Hinata looked up through the window. There was the blue sky, the wonderful fluffy clouds. He closed his eyes tight, locking in the angry tears. He clenched his teeth, and stifled a cluck of his tongue. His fists squeezed.

 

By the time Hinata was returned to the room, chained to the pillar, and placed in the same white garments, he was in no mood for company, and especially not the prince’s. When Tobio entered, the boy stopped his irritated pacing, swelled his chest with a furious breath, and glared at him.

“Osu!”

Tobio could not completely hide the flinch of his shoulders. He frowned, and turned his head slightly away, unconsciously putting himself on guard.

“I don’t appreciate you putting me in white clothes,” Hinata said. “White color is pure, and this, what you’re wanting to do is not. It’s disrespect to my culture.”

He began again his pacing. The prince took a few steps forward, but only until he was next to his own bed. He held one arm behind his back.

“You prefer another color? What one?”

“Black,” he snapped. “For my shame.”

Tobio frowned. “I will not put you in black. It is for mourning only. That is a disrespect to _my_ culture.”

“So I’ll ask you to kill me. Then it will be fitting.”

He continued to wander back and forth in front of the pillar. He hardly glanced as the prince crossed the room, and stopped to lean against a window.

“Your life has many rules,” Tobio said, looking out. “It seems hard to live as you do.”

“It wouldn’t be, if we were left alone to do it.”

Hinata sat down against the column, with his legs straight in front of him, and his hands at his sides. He curled his fingers against the floor, relaxed them, and repeated the motion. Tobio was watching him, but the boy did not look over.

“I do not like waiting,” the prince said. Hinata cut him off.

“Neither do I. So do what you’re going to do, be done with it! I want to leave, with or without my life, so just take it, take what you want.”

There was a ripping sound, and Tobio looked, to see his hands tearing a line up the mesh skirt, as he held the fabric down with his thigh. When the tear had reached the top, he twisted his shirt and with an effort ripped the mesh cleanly from the bottom. He pushed the pile away with his feet. Then he stood up.

“Now I’m ready, Osu-san.” His linked hands moved with difficulty to the top of his skirt. “I’ll take this off also, so you see everything.”

“Do not do that.”

His hands stopped their work, as he looked up at him. Tobio let his eyes sneer.

“As if I wished to see,” he said, turning back to the window. “If I did, why would I have you clothed?”

“To torment me. And anyway I don’t believe you, I always watch your eyes when you’re here.”

“You cannot know that I am looking at you. My attention is for the clothing, whether the seamstress is meeting my standard.”

“Well then I’ll take off the clothing, and if you’re telling the truth, you won’t look at me anymore.”

“Do not. If you do not respect me, someone at the absolute opposite height of your importance, how do you expect me to extend my respect all the way down to you?”

The redhead rolled his eyes. He walked over and sat down on his bed, pulling the dull brown sheet over his legs. A few moments later, the white skirt came out from under the sheet, and he tossed it on top of the other. He sat with the sheet bunched at his stomach, and thumped his heels against the floor.

The fabric was thin and generously hugged the shape of his legs, following even every groove of his knees. Tobio wanted to feel his way over the curves, to slip his fingers into the dents and dimples… But only for a moment did his mind stay there. Then he turned and raised up one hip, resting it on the windowsill. He waited until the redhead’s eyes moved onto him.

“You should begin your practice with calling me by my proper name.”

“I don’t know your name,” Hinata said.

“Are you an imbecile? Have you devoted any attention at all to your surroundings since you came here?”

“I have no reason to use your name. Why would I bother to learn it?”

“You cannot call me what I am not,” he said. “I am not Osu. I am your Prince.”

“You use my name to mock me. I’m only returning the favor.”

“Do you dislike your name?”

“No. My name is everything I have to be proud of, which is why I dislike you, the person who keeps me trapped here, using it.”

“Is there no excitement in being someplace so different from your home?” Tobio said. “A place full of things you have probably never seen. The people here do not dress like your people.”

“No, and neither do they know what the word modesty means.”

“We do not eat like you do.”

“We eat all the same as you, but we don’t need it so specially prepared. We’re easier to please.”

“Even such things as proper walls, and floors, and privacy in the place you sleep, must be unknown to you.”

“We _have_ proper walls, we live in houses that last for a hundred years. And we don’t need privacy, we’re not doing anything we have to hide!”

Tobio gave one shake of his head. “You must have everything so proper in your lives, yet you do not even use proper speech.”

“Don’t talk to me about what’s proper. You live like animals, you have no self-control at all. You think whatever you want right now you should be able to have, right now, and you never have to learn patience or how to sacrifice for something.”

“You believe that feeling pleasure is sinful, or shameful. Even though your body is a part of you, you are taught to put its desires behind all other things.”

“You don’t have any idea what we’re taught! We believe you commit to one person, and that makes the pleasure greater, because it’s special! You can only feel so much with your body, that is what we’re taught, and to hold yourself back and take the time to connect with your heart before you connect your bodies, that makes it more satisfying in the end.”

“How do you know that to be true? If you only touch one, and are only touched by one, in your life, you have no two pleasures to compare. You are believing what someone else tells you on faith. I do not believe everything I am told about doing the act, and you should not believe all that you are told about not doing it.”

“I believe because I’ve seen what happens! You don’t know a thing, you people never look behind you at what you’ve done. I know a girl barely older than me who has a little baby girl and no husband because one of you took advantage of her. You make all those people feel horrible about their lives, and it’s easy to tell you feel horrible too, that’s why you go from one to another and are never satisfied. I’m not believing it on faith, I understand it perfectly well, that what you do is wrong!”

“It seems you resent your own customs. You hate us because we have our way more often than you do.”

“We hate you because you—abuse something that’s sacred to us! My people believe it’s a gift, from the gods, and you—”

“We also believe that.”

“No, not like you do. To us a gift is something you cherish. If someone gives you a gift, you should be grateful, and you should feel humble. Because they gave it to you only because they believed you were worthy of it. And you should have to prove that you are worthy, nobody should get to use it any time they want, with whoever they happen to choose on that day! It’s not fair, it’s not right.”

Hinata jerked an adjustment into his chain, and scooted behind the pillar, out of sight. But his heavy, ragged breathing could still be heard.

“Now I see,” said the prince. “You do not consider me worthy of your gift.”

“That is not it, I wasn’t talking about me! But just so it’s clear, do you think taking me from the people I love, putting me in chains like _I’m_ the one who did something wrong, and having the nerve to ask me again and again for the thing I already told you you’re never getting, do you think doing that makes me want to give you anything?”

“You seem to think I am asking for more than I really am. I want only your body. Physical pleasure alone will not ruin you in the way you describe. You may keep your feelings, and you need not have any regard for me, or less regard for those you love. I only ask for a willing spirit.”

“You aren’t listening to a word I say,” he cried, “Because I just told you that you can’t take one and leave the others behind!”

Tobio’s lip curled above his gritted teeth. He moved across the room, so that they were once again within sight of each other.

“The teachings I have learned are different than those that you have learned. We do not understand each other in this matter.”

“We never will. So we don’t need to talk anymore.” Hinata turned his back as he lay down, his lower half still covered by the sheet. “You had your chance to touch me, so don’t you dare try while I’m asleep.”

The fabric was now draped over his hip, and as it fell across his cheeks, the shape of the left was almost completely and perfectly outlined. It was small, of course, but fascinatingly so, like the boy’s feet. Tobio did have a mind to touch him, from pure curiosity and not defiance. But instead he went to his own empty bed and lay down, without shutting the curtains.

“I do know your name,” Hinata said. The prince turned so fast that the rustle of the bedsheets was undeniable.

“You’re the imbecile, for believing I wouldn’t.”

“Use it,” Tobio said.

“Over my dead body.”

“You are talking a lot of your death. You seem to forget you are in the presence of someone who can have it quickly arranged.”

“The quicker the better.”

Tobio ground his teeth, and rolled away from his direction.


	5. Chapter 5

It was early afternoon, the fifth day after the ceremony. Tobio was in a lower level library, being presented with four options for the boy’s nightwear. Ennoshita and Narita each held two.

“Which,” said Tobio, “Do you think he will most willingly wear?”

Ennoshita hissed a sigh to himself.

“None of these is likely to appease him. The choice may as well be for your preference. Perhaps you want to see the backs?”

They flipped the outfits around, and a finger went immediately toward the plunging V.

“Majesty!”

Kinoshita launched himself through the doorway.

“Urgent news, your brother has received word. He is told that the Princess will arrive here this evening, not the evening after next. She is coming early.”

“The Princess from the North?” he said. “From what source do you get your news?”

“It is certain, very certain, that she will be here tonight. The kitchen’s in an uproar, they need instructions—anything—”

Now Watari rushed in.

“A message for you, Tobio-sama.” He bowed.

“Yes, what?”

“You are to go to your brother, at the West Wing, he will speak with you about the room to be prepared for Her Majesty the Princess.”

The prince was on the move.

“Ennoshita.” He waved a hand. “I will need you. The rest of you, find work, go.”

The Princess was a woman Tobio had never met. And a woman he was pledged to marry. As the younger son, and already replaced by Tooru’s heir, his own kingdom had nothing to offer, so he was to be married off, to a different throne. The throne in question had long been an adversary of theirs; for decades the two had fought over trade rights on the sea that separated them. With the opportunity now at hand, they looked to establish some degree of peace, by a marriage unity. Tobio was the indifferent offer on his family’s side.

 

Hinata was in the inner chamber, alone and absolutely bored, until Tobio was swept into the front room among a gang of squawking servants. Hinata heard pleas for instructions on foods to be prepared. He heard shrill suggestions on décor and attire. And above all other noise, he heard the clear and sharp orders of the irked prince.

“It does not matter if it is made in the regular way, she will not be aware and anyway do you have the time to attempt different?”

“She will have no concern for what you look like, do not bother with yourselves.”

“My brother is already having them changed.”

“If you are going to use pins, do not do so on my flesh.”

Hinata had unconsciously stood and moved toward the sounds. His brows were perked, and he stared at the blurs of shadows he could see in the hall.

“But you are forgetting that the appearance that matters most is Tobio-sama’s,” said a voice he recognized as the head servant’s. “He will be looked at more than anything else, so _concentrate_ on what you are doing.”

“When was the last time we had a guest to stay at the palace?”

“Obviously too long ago, if you are all at a loss for what to do,” said the prince.

“But—Are you certain this—with this color?”

“Nothing can be made. Nothing can be done.”

“Call Semi-san in, he will have to look at it.”

“We must all go out now, and do the best we can, there is no time to bother His Majesty.”

“I am going out,” said Tobio. “If I meet Semi, or if I do not, so be it.”

There was a rush of footsteps, then no sound at all. Hinata watched the doorway, hungrily.

 

The younger generation of royals stood by the entrance of the second-level dining hall, waiting in their best attire to meet the guest. The aura around them was completed by the presence of the crowns; Tooru’s glimmered gold, with tiny red gems, and his son wore a matching golden ringlet atop his dark fluff of hair. Shimizu’s sparkled bluish, and Tobio still wore his plain silver band, but wore it well, as they all did. They would have felt a smug pleasure at being seen in this state, that is, if their guest had been anything other than what she was.

She came up the staircase directly in front of them, with an escort of servants moving along behind and beside her. There was a mixing of the palace’s workers and her own, who wore thin robes of maroon, tightly tied at the waist. None of these facts were taken in by the family, whose eyes were for the princess alone.

Her face was hardly worth looking at, as the overwhelming beauty made it impossible to pick out any one feature and come to an understanding of its details. Her long black curls hung down and were swept behind her shoulders. A white tiara sat among the dark waves atop her head; other than that, she wore all red. Her chest and shoulders were covered by a delicately beaded top, with sleeves that widened as they ran down to the middle of her forearm. A veil-like gauze made up the bodice of the shirt, exposing a curveless stomach and pierced naval. Her skirt overlapped it at the hips, and ran to her ankles, providing a resolutely thick coverage of her lower half.

“I am Akaashi,” she said, “Heiress to the throne of your sister country.”

From three of them there was awed stillness. Only Tooru stepped forward, with a raised brow and a small smirk.

“Princess, cherished and most honored guest—”

He bowed deep, then straightened up, now with a real smile that had appeared like magic.

“This palace, in its century of playing host, has not seen foreign beauty so stunning as yours. Such fine, powerful eyes, they overwhelm me. Hair so rich it is worth a thousand times its weight in gold. No mark to speak of on your skin, as if life itself cannot touch you...You are a picture of superiority.”

“Your brother had the right to first praise,” she said without pause. “You ought to have left flattery to him, as it aids his purpose and not yours.”

She had a low purr of a voice, which precisely suited her appearance. Now she turned her terrifyingly graceful head to the other prince.

“This is he,” she said.

Even with her shrewd, heavily hooded eyes on him, Tobio could think of nothing but the way she had just spoken to his brother, who she had never met, and who was as good as King. He looked her up and down, and his pride rushed to its own defense as it occurred to him that she might be taller; a second careful look made him decide that either they were the same height, or the tiniest of advantages was on his side. He visibly started upon realizing that he had been staring in silence. He bowed, a bit faster than proper.

“I am pleased to meet you,” he said.

“And I you. That is all we need say, for the time being.”

She bowed her head a fraction, then turned to the queen.

They faced off, two women at the peak of youth, dressed very differently but both to the advantage of their figure. Shimizu’s full bust was highlighted by expert gatherings of fabric which revealed a portion of either side of her breasts. The strips of cloth connected to a bejeweled band tight around her ribs. Her skirt sat just below her waist, flowing smoothly from the bulge, and hugged tenderly at every curve from her hips to her knees. A triangular slit up each side exposed the groove of her thigh muscle. Oppositely, the princess’s attire enunciated her leanness and slender frame. Though Tobio had absolutely no complaint of his sister-in-law, and no reason to make the judgement, somehow he was certain that his destined mate was the more beautiful.

“I am Shimizu.”

If everyone present had not been so in awe of the standoff between the two, the words from her mouth would never have been heard. The princess caught them, acknowledging them with a flutter of her eyelashes, and a slow lowering of her head. Finally she looked at the Little Prince, who held his mother’s hand, and had Michimiya hovering behind him. Without being told, he bent forward in a stiff bow. The corners of the princess’s mouth almost curled, and she dipped her chin as much as she had for Tooru. Then her attention returned to him.

“I cannot apologize for my early arrival,” she said, “Because it was by design. A good test of a governing system is how well it performs under pressure. I wished to judge whether you would take shortcuts, or give excuses. Also, the only way to glimpse your real nature was by arriving before you had time to create the image that you wished me to see, rather than revealing that which is true of you.”

“I assure you,” said Tooru, with a broad smirk, “In this household we never hold a grudge against cunning. Now we will all go to dinner, in your honor, and you are welcome to make a careful observation for any shortcuts. Of course one is quite apparent,” he said as they entered the dining hall. “I sincerely apologize for the lack of guests, Your Majesty. The failure to secure them is my own.”

“I hope you are not seriously troubling yourself about such a thing,” she replied. “Do you not think as I do that this first meeting should be an absolutely intimate one? And also, Akaashi-san is what you may call me. We do not use impersonal honorifics in my country.”

Tooru tilted his head. “As you wish.”

He took his place at the head of the table, and directed the princess to his immediate right. Tobio sat on his left, across from her as planned. The queen was next to her brother-in-law, and her son next to her. Tobio chanced a look at the beautiful princess, seeking to study the details of the face, but was startled to find her already doing the same to him, without any attempt to hide it. He dropped his eyes, and in spite of screaming protest by every bit of his pride, his instinct made him look to his brother.

Once again it was Tooru who spoke first.

“Our father, the King, will not be joining the party, I am afraid. He has been bedridden for some time.”

“I heard as much, from sea travelers,” Akaashi said. “Is it an illness of age?”

“That is undetermined. The physicians know only by now that it is not contagious. He has great painful lumps, no appetite, it is a very unpleasant business. Something that need not be discussed on your visit of introduction and pleasure. It is more appropriate for you to tell us the details of your journey. I hope it went smoothly, and that you found a few adventures worth your time.”

“I wish that I had gone around to the west, and come up the river to reach this place. A week of nothing but the sea, followed by a week of nothing but sand, I found to be undesirable. However, the gradual greening of the land as we came nearer to the river was interesting to observe.”

The sharpness of her mind was obvious, and of obvious pleasure to Tooru.

“My watchmen were surprised at your coming in such a small party,” he said. “It seems your parents are not overly concerned for your safety. Are you an only child?”

“I am, and I should be quite useless at defending my people and their rights if I could not defend myself and my own.”

“So they wished to put you to the test.”

“Unless I was mistaken in my information and set to marry into a race of barbarians, I expected there would be no test. But in addition to the reasons given previously, my arriving early was a precaution against such a thing, because if there were to be any test it would be set by you.”

Tobio had played as small a role as the queen, up to now, something which he did not mind in the slightest. But the princess looked hard at him, and her intention was clear.

“Now that your brother has dispelled with the formalities, I will ask you a serious question,” she said. “What ties do you have to your homeland? Will you be reluctant to leave it?”

He was not put off by the directness of the question, but rather the fact of this woman looking with such intensity at him. He had been taught to have a high opinion of himself, but he was finding that it did not extend so far as his being unsurprised by attention from a beautiful female.

“I—have no—concern,” he said. “I will get used to the change…”

As he avoided her eyes, he felt his face heating up, and when he became angry at it, his tongue tied. Tooru cocked a brow above pitiless eyes, and left him to wallow in inferiority.

“It is amazing that you appear to us at such a height of perfection, when you are here at the end of an exhaustive journey.”

“It was exhaustive only for the camels,” she said. “I suffered boredom and nothing else. The journey back will likely be more productive, when I have much to think about.”

“On the contrary, you will know everything about us. Was there not a thrill of wonder while you were on your way?”

“Wondering is no good when you are soon to reach the place where your questions will be answered. And now, to attend to these questions.”

She turned determinedly to Tobio.

“I would like a description of your upbringing. Where you raised here, in this palace?”

“Yes.”

“What is it that makes that question a valid one?” Tooru said.

“In my family we are born within the walls of our future home,” she said, “But from that moment we are raised elsewhere. This is for the purpose of safety, as well as to protect us from the pressures of the throne, until we are old enough to bear them. Clearly you have a different practice.” She looked at the Little Prince.

“I do not know that Tobio will object to any of your practices.”

“I have no reason to,” he murmured.

“Who was responsible for your education?” she said then.

“My father found both of us to be sufficiently self-motivated. We had a tutor on occasion, but we were left mostly to ourselves.”

“Our father’s advisor,” Tobio cut in, “Oversaw much of our education.”

“Yes, for dearest Tobio he did indeed. I found, however, that many of the questions I put to him were not to receive a straight answer.”

Tobio was watching the princess. Whenever his brother jumped in, her eyes would move a fraction toward him, while her head stayed still. And when he had stopped speaking, her gaze would pivot sharply back to the younger. It was a most curious position to Tobio, who could not name a single instance when someone had been more interested in himself than in Tooru.

“Your brother is the heir, and with an heir of his own,” she said to him. “What is your current position, at your age? And what would be your rank in the future, if you were not destined to leave?”

“My brother has just come of age,” Tooru said. “I wish that you had arrived a week early, rather than a few days, to celebrate with us.”

She turned deliberately from the elder. “You are how old?”

“Seventeen,” Tobio said.

“We in the north come of age at eighteen. I did so last month. My parents have arranged for me to assume the throne after the marriage takes place. You may very well become King before your brother has.”

Tooru laughed.

“That is something he has never, even on his best days, expected to hear. You have given him a very good birthday present. But I will put a stop to this business talk, and serious planning. It is far too early into your visit for that, Akaashi-san.”

“My visit will be only so long, and I would like to learn something of use before its end. I am expected to return with an improved understanding of the agreement between our parties.”

“You are shockingly like my brother in bluntness.”

“If you see it as so, I apologize for my behavior. I will comply to dining customs and pose a question with a less pressing tone. How did your marriage come about, Tooru-san? Was the union arranged?”

“Ah ha,” he simpered. “As I thought, you are capable of accommodating to anyone in conversation. Yet you do so only when you wish, I admire that most of all. My Shimizu was from a toddler’s age the most admired beauty of her class, and was introduced to my family when we were still ten year old children. It was decided shortly after that we would be joined, but we did not marry until after my coming of age. Our little one was born nine months, to the day, after our first night.”

“How do you get on with your nephew, Tobio-san?” She was looking keenly at him. “Is there affection on either side?”

“I…have no complaints,” he said to his plate. “When he is older, we may have more in common.”

“So while he is young, you do not feel an attachment to him. Do you have any desire for children of your own?”

His brow lifted slightly, as if in thought, but his mind was blank. He spoke low.

“We will have an heir…”

He did not have to look at his brother; he could feel his smirk. And he imagined the coldness of the princess’s face, and did not bother to look there either.

“They would be quite beautiful.”

All three turned in surprise to Shimizu.

“Any such child is one that I would be eager to see,” she said. She was looking steadily at Akaashi. “Prince Tobio has a naturally pleasing structure in his features. He has always looked so, ever since I knew him as a child. And I do not believe you will find eyes of a more lovely blue.”

Tiny flustered cramps twisted themselves inside the prince’s chest, and his mind went blurry with confusion.

“You, Princess, have a face proportioned in perfect elegance, with no flaw to speak of. Your figure proves excellent health, and as I look at your hair, it seems the mythical kind to be coveted by the gods.”

Akaashi inclined her head, but kept her eyes locked on the queen. “Thank you for your kind words, Shimizu-san.”

“My my,” said Tooru. “I do not think my brother and I are prepared to withstand the combined power of two such females, especially if they are going to be so fair with one another.”

“Let us hope not,” the princess said. “It cannot hurt two brothers to be impressionable, where there is an example of fairness, as you say, being set for them.”

Tooru’s eyes flashed, with something like glee, but Tobio did not see it. He was looking at her with approval, for the way that she kept his brother from getting the last word, something he had never in his life succeeded at.

 

There was an array of reasons Hinata hated being locked. The number one, however, was not the mental and emotional strain of slavery, but the physical inability to be as active as he was used to. Every waking hour it peeved him, putting him in a completely uncharacteristic foul mood. He had taken to incessant rounds of stationary exercises, using what mobility the chain allowed him. This evening he was doing aggressive sit-ups, until Tobio came in and he lurched up onto his feet.

Hinata was wearing a pale yellow slip with simple black detailing. It had a small V in the neckline, and squeezed snug against his hips and thighs. The boy said nothing for a moment, as they looked at each other.

“What’s going on? I heard the talk, that there was a guest coming. Who is it?”

Tobio set the question aside, as the memory of the outfit he had chosen came to him.

“Turn…”

Hinata gave a magnificent roll of his eyes. But then, he spun a circle, slow and dramatically saucy, and Tobio had a rotating view of the open back, cutting out to reveal the creamy frost of so much of his skin, and the V which dipped within one naughty centimeter of exposing his rump. In a moment though the sight was forgotten; it was the obedience that softened him, and urged him to ask:

“How are you?”

The frown was vicious, and the head cocked in a dangerous way.

“How am I? I’m chained in your room as your slave, and you ask how am I?”

“If I do not keep you like that, you will run away.”

“Yes, I will. What’s going on?” he repeated.

Tobio drew his eyes from him, and wandered over to a window. He set one hand on the sill and looked out.

“The Princess, from across the Northern Sea, is here. It is our first meeting. She is to be my wife.”

The long silence surprised him, and he reluctantly turned. Hinata was staring with giant glossy orbs, and his mouth open.

“You’re—engaged to her?”

Tobio turned away. “We have been betrothed for several years.”

“And you—You would—with me…That’s just—horrible!”

“I am already aware of what you think of such things, you do not need to explain yourself farther.”

“No, if you’re—already going to be married—Then why? Why would you choose a slave, you already have someone to be with, you have a wife! If you’re engaged to her that’s adultery. You’re horrible! Does your wife know you’re doing this?”

His head swung fast. “She is not my wife. And I have not been unfaithful to her because I have yet to do anything to you. You act as if I had determined these things for myself, when it is a custom that has been passed down to me from decades.”

“It isn’t fair. You’ve been promised to each other and she’s going to find out you didn’t care enough to keep this thing for her. And it’s not fair to us, to do this then send us away and not care about the consequences. If we go back like this we feel guilty, we feel that we’ve shamed our family and also that we’ve lost the right to marry and be happy with a partner, because you’ve spoiled us and made us impure.”

“Maybe you will not have to worry about consequences. Maybe I will keep you here forever.”

His eyes stayed angry, but swelled with tears. Tobio’s gut spasmed with discomfort. The moment the tears began to run down the peachy cheeks, he dropped his eyes. But he could not bring himself to turn his back. They stood there, silent, for a few very long seconds. The boy huffed.

“Fine.”

He spun on his heel and walked behind the pillar, to lay in his bed with his back to the room.

“But you’ll have to force me anyway, no matter how long you keep me here,” he said. “I’m not doing what you want.”

The prince listened to a sharp sniffle, then another. He took a few silent steps to the side, putting the boy within view again. The small shoulders jerked up with a breath. Tobio held in a sigh.

“Even though it is a palace, you do not like being trapped here, do you.”

“I’m not going to make any deals with you,” was the firm reply.

The prince approached. Hinata was oblivious until the shadow cast over him, and his eyes slid up to see Tobio directly above. He flinched into the wall, pressing his back and arms against it, looking up through narrowed eyes. Tobio did not look at him, as he unhooked the chain, let it fall to the floor, and gathered the slack into his hand. Only when he was holding the end, did his eyes seek the brown.

“Come,” he said.

The boy hesitated, and Tobio watched it in his face. He was scared, then uncertain, then blazingly curious. When the prince took a step from the wall, he followed, one step forward. Tobio turned and walked toward the balcony in the back corner of the room. He listened to the chain scraping along behind him.

They went out onto the platform, into the cool night. Tobio stopped at the side railing, and looked from the boy to the awning and back. For someone of his height it was a simple step from the railing to the roof, but for the boy it must seem much different. Hinata, however, was watching him, and understood the look. He bounced past him, up onto the railing and an instant later onto the roof, catching its edge with his elbows and one knee. He pulled himself up, and the prince hurried to crawl up behind him.

From the roof, the boy could see all the village sprawled out in front of him, with tiny squares of light peeping from thousands of windows.

Tobio could see only a dark outline of the boy, and he flinched at the sudden heavy thud of the chain. Hinata had dropped to a seat on the rooftop. He sucked in noisy breaths of the fresh air; Tobio sat down where he was, behind him to the left.

“Is it not pleasant to look from here?” the prince said.

Not a moment later, he heard a shameless sob, then a cascade of sniffling and hiccupping as Hinata began to cry again.

“I don’t want to look at it. I want to go back.”

When he moved on instinct to wipe his eyes, the metal shackles raked across his face. He moaned an exclamation of pain, then buried his face into the crooks of his elbows, crying harder in frustration. Several strangled breaths later, he said:

“I lived there, and I didn’t have everything you have, but I had everything I needed. You took me away, and you took everything. I hate you.”

“Why do you cry in my presence?” Tobio said. “Are you not afraid of showing weakness?”

“I don’t care what I look like to you. I don’t care.”

Even though he was choking on them, Tobio still caught every word.

“I used to swim in the river, with my friends, for hours sometimes…I used to go to the market for my mother, and see everyone I knew there…And even though they were all poor, and lived in houses that were a little too small, and sometimes worked harder than they could take, because they didn’t have enough food, they were all h—happy people, that would actually smile at me, and tell jokes, and ask how my family was and care about the answer.”

He took a long, harsh sniff.

“And I’d skip rope with my sister, and play games in the street with her and her friends, and—and…When I came home from working or school she’d jump on me and tell me how much she grew or where she went to visit—”

He tried to stifle his sob, and made a painful squeak.

“But this time I never came home.”

The prince was successfully disturbed. The lump in his throat had never throbbed harder, and if Hinata had said one word more, he likely would have released him on the spot. But the boy had no more to say, it appeared, and Tobio watched the vague outline of his lurching shoulders, and listened to his breathing slowly smooth out.

He left him alone a little while, until a small grunt brought his eyes back to the boy. His shoulders were sagging, and his head was bent forward. The prince thought that reality had set in. He thought he was witnessing the break. But when he stood, and came to Hinata’s side, he looked down and saw that he was only nodding off. The red head sank lower and lower, until it jerked straight and his breath hitched. He did not notice Tobio, and began to drift to the side, springing back when he had caught himself. Tobio knocked the chain against the rooftop, then gave a small tug. Hinata got up and followed to the edge of the roof.

The prince lowered himself back onto the balcony. Then he paused, unsure of the boy’s safety in getting down without the use of his arms. He stood in the fan of light from his room, while Hinata stood above him in darkness.

“Catch.”

His arms were still stiff with indecision when the boy’s full weight landed in them. There was an instant of softness against his skin, before Hinata rolled from his grasp and tumbled to the floor. He hopped up and went inside, and Tobio followed, musing. To hate him, yet fully trust in his ability to prevent bodily harm, was a phenomenon unknown to the prince. He felt that the longer the boy was here, the less he understood him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just realized I had anon comments disabled, so speak now you-who-must-not-be-named.

Hinata woke on the sixth day from a pleasant dream, but the warm sleep evaporated from his eyes when he looked around at his reality. Moments later, the prince entered, and the prisoner’s brow jumped into the familiar scowl. He got up as Tobio and Ennoshita were crossing the room.

“He could have given me a warning, but he has not because he wishes to spite and to shame me in front of her,” the prince was saying. “What is to be done with him?”

They were both looking at Hinata now.

“We could hide him, but that would only do for now,” said Ennoshita. “It would require much future effort to keep concealing him, when the princess may go where she chooses and the boy is marched all around the palace at unpredictable hours.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Tobio said, still looking at the boy.

“Tell her that he is a lawbreaker. Or that he has personally offended you in some way. You keep him here awaiting a certain harsh punishment.”

“I could lie. But I risk being caught, if my brother intends to give excessive details about my life, or if he has already. I could lie…” He stared openly at Hinata’s stony brow. “Or I could tell her the truth.”

Then Hinata heard another voice, and his focus shifted past the prince to the doorway beyond. He saw shadows in the hall, and he heard the princess at the same time he saw her.

“I wish you would have respected my insistence on not seeing the family’s private chambers. As of this time I have no reason to do so, and I will also tell you that some would consider it inappropriate as well as unnecessary.”

Her eyes moved off of Ukai, her guide, and onto Tobio. Then she saw the redhead.

“Who is this?”

Tobio stepped to the side, leaving the boy in full view of her. He looked between them, at Hinata who was staring with the largest eyes he had ever seen, then at Akaashi, whose eyes were on himself, threatening suspicion.

“He—is a gift,” Tobio said.

Akaashi’s gaze flickered from him for a moment, then back. As she began to walk closer, he explained.

“We believe that a healthy and strong—physical connection is important to—marriage. When we come of age, the rite of passage is a—an act of the flesh, committed with a bottom citizen of our choosing.”

The princess was now directly in front of Hinata, and when Tobio finished speaking, turned immediately to study him. The boy’s brown was dotted with tiny glowing pricks, that said plainly he had never seen the like of her. It was the wonder, pure and precious beyond imagination, which Tobio had sought to instill, and now that he saw it directed at another, he felt brutal envy for it.

Akaashi bent down, and the stars popped, but Hinata did not sway an inch as the side of her thin finger touched under his chin, tilting his face into fuller light. Then she straightened up and looked directly at the prince.

“You have sexual relations with this boy in order to prepare for similar relations with someone like myself?”

Her scathing undertone was not nearly as entertaining when directed at him.

“Your brother took the liberty of explaining several other of your traditions, this morning at an early breakfast attended by the two of us. I do not admire them, as they seem to serve no other purpose than to grant you as much freedom and as little restraint as possible.”

“I did not write the traditions,” was his murmured reply.

“No, but if you possessed any measure of morality I suspect you would show some resistance, and so it goes without saying.”

She turned, but not in anger, and her retreating steps were slow.

“There is no need to fear for the security of your future. I do not believe in rejection based on one differing opinion, or even a dozen of them. Aside from that, your voluntary honesty nullifies any resentment I might have had toward you, and I would be pleased to have your company for the remainder of my tour.”

She moved past the group of escorting servants and exited the room. It seemed her custom to leave silence behind her.

 

In the late morning, Hinata was removed from his chamber dungeon by Futakuchi and Lev and taken to the yard for his exercise. But the party halted at the outside door when the brunette spotted the queen and her son, who were currently walking the grass on their own exercise, under the protective eye of Terushima. The guard marched back and forth around the battlement that topped the three stone walls. Futakuchi went out, waving to his fellow, and crossed the yard to bow and speak to the queen. He motioned back at Hinata, who was no longer paying attention to the people, but his surroundings. His eyes scaled up and down the smooth wall, that he judged to be three times his height.

Then Futakuchi came back to them, and pulled both Lev and the boy through the doorway and to the side. Hinata looked up at the beautiful queen as she was passing. Then he looked down, at the little boy beside her. His hair was black of all black. His face, the nose and chin and cheeks, were so peaked with mysterious grace and nobility that it was startling. And when the boy stared at him, his eyes were round and amber, and glowed.

Even after the two had passed into the palace, Hinata felt a chill swirling around his skin. He was led to the center of the grassy yard, to a thick metal peg in the ground, where he was shackled by his ankles before the chains on his wrists were removed.

“Run around the circle until I tell you that you may stop,” said Futakuchi. He and Lev moved away to the wall to talk with Terushima.

In anger Hinata ran a few furious laps, but he quickly dizzied and stopped. He watched the guards shooting the bull, then trained his eyes into the opposite corner from them, hearing behind him the other two laugh at Lev. Then the gray-haired young man gave a shout.

“Look at the cat!”

Hinata’s head whipped around to watch them turn toward the corner of the wall, where a wrinkled, flesh-colored cat was seated tensely on its haunches, sizing up the expanse of brown stone.

“He’s trying to escape,” said Lev. “I will help him! Kitty-cat, come to—”

“No, let us see if he can make it.”

“The surface is too smooth,” said Futakuchi, “There is no chance.”

“I will bet you tonight’s drinks.”

“Fool.”

“Cooperate with a little fun, Kuchi-kun! It looks an intelligent animal, I bet one drink for each of his attempts,” said Terushima.

“I want to bet too! I know he will make it.”

“There you are, Lev will bet you a drink for every attempt.”

“I will take it.”

Hinata’s was only a moment’s hesitation. Then he reached down for the shackles on his ankles. They were an advanced contraption, with a handprint, much larger than his own, shaped into the metal. The prints were face up and reversed; Hinata crouched and reached behind him with his right hand to his left ankle, keeping his fingers pointed up his leg, and pushed. The print was set to give way under a certain amount of pressure, which he struggled to muster from this angle.

“That is two.”

“Come on Kitty-cat!”

“As I said, he has nothing to hold to at the halfway point.”

The shackle split open with a chlink and Hinata’s eyes darted at the guards. Not one turned to him. He reached around with his left hand and pushed down on the right shackle. It opened. He sprinted dead out to the wall, pressed himself against it and turned back to check for pursuers.

“And he jumps again—and he’s back to the ground.”

“You owe me seven, Lev.”

“I want to help him now.”

“No, there is no intervening to shorten your price.”

“But we don’t get pay this week!”

Hinata bent, pulled his arms far back, and jumped. His hand grazed across the stone blocks, about halfway up the wall. He jumped again, an inch higher, and again, more inches.

“And another one—Ohh. How persistent.”

“He will get hurt,” Lev cried.

“No, he has always landed on his feet. What a stubborn animal,” said Futakuchi.

Hinata turned from his sixth attempt and rocketed back to the middle of the yard. He charged at the wall and made a great leap, stretching out a fluid arm as if it were a wing, and felt his hand catch on the top edge of the wall. He latched immediately with his other, and began to kick wildly to swing his moment up toward the battlement.

“Look look he caught an edge this time, I think he is going to—Ah.”

“Poor kitty, all he wants is to be free—”

“The kid!”

Futakuchi jerked his head and ran from them. Lev looked past him at the flailing Hinata.

“Ooo, he looks like he is going to make it. I bet on him too!”

Hinata had his left toe on the ledge, but as he turned and saw the charging Futakuchi there was a moment of terror that sapped the strength from his arms, and he dropped a few inches from the surface. He pulled himself back up, and moved to hook his ankle around the outer edge of the stone. Then Terushima came barreling around the corner of the battlement, with a baton raised to strike him.

Hinata let go and fell on ready feet in the grass. He sprang away from Futakuchi and bolted cleanly past Lev, rocketing toward the opposite side of the yard.

“He is very fast!”

“Lev you imbecile!”

The boy jumped and attached to the left wall.

“Grab him!”

He had pulled his chin up to the level of his hands. When with difficulty he turned his head and saw the two closing in, he kicked out viciously with a leg, landing his heel solidly against Lev’s face. He released the wall and sped past again, shirking around Futakuchi’s long arm, and ran for the palace door. He rammed up against it, jerked with all his weight on the iron ring, and found it locked. He spun around, caught.

The boy cringed into the door as the guards rushed forward, pressing him back hard while Futakuchi slammed the shackles over his arms.

“Give him a gitch from me,” Terushima said from the battlement. Lev raised his arm, but it was caught mid-swing by the brunette.

“We cannot touch him. He belongs directly to the prince, we cannot harm him and expect it to go unpunished.” He released Lev’s arm. “We will give a report of the incident. All we can do is suggest that he not be let out.”

He gave the boy a glare, long enough for Hinata to recover, and sneer back with his eyes.

 

In the early evening, when Hinata was led to his bath, he wore the same magnificent pout that he had worn since the failed flight. When Narita had seated him in the warm, heavily perfumed water, and Kinoshita began to scrub his back, the redhead’s eyes slitted and rolled up in annoyance. Ennoshita stood in front of the tub, watching him with folded arms.

“You know the more times you attempt to escape,” he said, “The less you will see the sun, and the thicker your chains will be. Are you aware of that risk?”

Hinata’s brow twisted in consideration. Then he said:

“While I’m here, I’m a prisoner all the same. It makes no difference how thick the chains, or how little the sun.”

“You say that because you do not understand how much worse it could be.”

Hinata’s mouth twitched down, and he shifted in the water, before he looked again with a new little light in his eyes.

“You’re the prince’s special servant, aren’t you?”

“Special is not the appropriate word. I am no more special than anyone else.”

“Ennoshita is the smartest of all the bottom class I know,” said Kinoshita. “But as modest as he is, it’s amazing he ever reached his position.”

“You’re common, then,” Hinata said. “You’re my people. How did you get here? Did they take you from your home like me?”

His soapy head was cocked at him, comical but also endearing.

“I did not have much of a home to be taken from,” the young man said. “My mother had me out of wedlock, I was told, and with no way to care for me she passed me off to relations of hers. Then I was given by them to different relations, then by those relations to neighbors, and by the end I had been all over the village with all sorts of people.”

“What do you mean—” His head was doused, and he sputtered and pushed back his sopping hair. “What do you mean the end? What happened then?”

“When I was thirteen I was drafted to the labor unit that built the palace’s outer courtyard. The others in my group were as young, and I became the leader of sorts. I suppose because of that I was selected for service in the palace.”

“He was selected,” said Narita, “Because he was head and shoulders above the rest in mind and in self-motivation and control.”

“His command of himself allows him to take command of others in tense situations.”

“Enough of that. I—Please.”

His two fellows were smiling at him, and Hinata was too, through his heavy bangs.

“How long have you been at the palace, Ennoshita-san?”

“Five years, roughly. I have been at Prince Tobio’s aid for three, though I am only two years older.”

“Has he always been as terrible as he is now?” Hinata said, as he responded to the soft tug under his arm and crawled out of the tub.

“You should not say that.”

Hinata held his hair back from his forehead, staring with saucer eyes at the curt tone.

“You do not understand, which is not your fault. But believe me, when I say, that you are lucky to belong to the young prince, and not his brother, or his father.”

Hinata’s stare was broken by Narita putting a towel over his head and rubbing the orange mop dry.

“But—But he keeps you here too, the same as me. You approve of him, even though you have to obey him, and he keeps you from where you belong? Don’t you miss any of the people you used to know, or who you lived with?”

The fluff popped out from the towel, and he craned his neck to look with heated sympathy. Ennoshita flinched a small smile.

“Since I did not have a family like you did, I cannot miss them as you do. So I suppose our situations are not a perfect comparison, and I should not have criticized your view.”

“Oh. I’m sorry that I did, to you.”

Then Hinata was pensive, and seemed for a moment not to notice them moving around him. Instead of the usual struggle against the clothes, he raised his arms to comply with their nudging. Kinoshita was surprised, but tried to minimize his pause and quickly dress the boy before he became conscious.

“Why is he marrying the princess?” Hinata said. “He said he’s been engaged to her but they’ve never met.”

“That is the practice, when the royal family has more than one child,” said Ennoshita. “He has a lesser role here in his own kingdom, so it was decided that marrying to another throne is the more respectable choice.”

“But—if he doesn’t know her—and doesn’t love her—”

“Only in fairytales does a prince marry his love. That is a concept we commoners are taught, but that is not the reality. Tooru-sama, the elder prince, did not marry his wife because he loved her.”

“Oh. Well, I might feel sorry for them, if I didn’t hate them so much.”

“I do not want to preach to you,” he said, “But it happens often that people are quick to hate. You hate what the prince stands for, which you were taught and which is, all of it, likely true. But hatred will exhaust you, which in your situation is the opposite of ideal. If Tobio-sama himself has given you no reason to hate him, I think it is easier on you if you do not.”

Hinata’s eyes slid absently to the floor. He made no move against them as they finished his outfit, and as they put the chains on his wrists, there was no protest.

 

Hinata lay on his back, with his knees bent and his feet snuggled together. His head was toward the wall, and he held his hands up in front of him as he made shadow puppets against the stone. When the prince came in, the red head whipped around, and he pulled down his hands. The boy got swiftly to his feet. They faced off, sizing up one another, even though by now they knew what they would see. Hinata’s eyes no longer had the same intentness on reading him.

The prince walked to the end of his bed, a few feet short of the pillar.

“I was told that today has not been your best for behavior.”

Hinata glared back for a moment. Then one corner of his mouth hopped up into a smirk, which was simultaneously arousing and infuriating to Tobio. He took a deliberately threatening step toward him, and the smirk disappeared back into a pouting puff of bottom lip.

“A simple form of punishment,” the prince said, “Would be to make you do something you do not want to.”

“No!”

The cry was not in his usual tone of pure defiance. It had a finality.

“You keep away from me.” He pointed accusingly. “You have a wife, I saw her! I’m not going to let you do that to a kind and pure princess. Even though I don’t believe she’ll marry you.” Now he smiled, and scrunched his nose, wickedly. “You’re not good enough for someone so beautiful.”

Then Hinata made an involuntary lean back, as he saw the prince’s shoulders jump and his eyes light with a brilliant blue flame.

“You will never go free. If you escape I will have you captured and brought back to me. You will never leave this place while you are alive!”

“I don’t care! I said it before, you can’t scare me and you can’t capture me forever, I _will_ get away one day, I will!”

“The walls of this chamber will be your view for the rest of your days. Forget your family, you will never see them again. And if you cause a moment more of trouble those chains will not leave your arms, and you will be visited by no servant, no other being, but me.”

He swept toward the exit.

“I will no longer be tolerant. You have given me no reason to be, and now you will suffer because it is what you deserve. If you have not feared me, from this moment you will.”

He went into the hall and disappeared from sight. Hinata had not answered, still could not answer, because at the mention of his family his throat had sealed itself off, and as the prince continued his threat, Hinata’s eyes had filled with tears. He turned fast. He jerked his arms, whipping the chain against the wall. Then he went behind the pillar, sat down, and pressed his head to the curve of stone.

And he cried.

His feelings were genuinely hurt, and it showed itself in the rounds of rapid hiccups. But deeper, under the panicked ragged edge in his breathing, was a horrific homesickness. He reached for the blanket, bunched it in his lap, and screamed into the satiny folds of fabric.

Meanwhile, Tobio was in the front chamber, leaning against the wall with his arms folded and glaring out the window.

He went back into the second room, and could see the boy’s red head sticking out from behind the pillar, laid on the stone floor. As he came closer, he saw that he was asleep, and as he came closer still, he could now make out a dark spot, about fist-size, on the piled sheet that sat in front of him. The prince’s eyes went wide, and after stepping near he bent over toward the boy. He leaned, leaned, and looked for what he knew, dreaded, would be on the now peace-cloaked face. Crusted tear streaks, and a telling swell of the bottom eyelids.

He lurched back, his stomach violently bubbling up with cold. The rush left him after only an instant, and he ached with an emptiness. His fists tightened. His eyes narrowed in self-scrutiny and he turned his head away from him. When he did, he saw the four-poster bed with the plethora of pillows, and looked back at the boy to see that he had not one.

Tobio marched to the bed to retrieve a plush, came back and knelt cautiously next to him. He slid a hand into the soft soft hair, and after a pause during which there was no change in the pure face, he curled his fingers around the underside of the boy’s head. He was about to lift, but decided not to risk the wake, the fear and the fury that he knew he would witness. So, though his hand shook in a spasm of frustration, he removed it, and left the pillow on the floor in front of him.

 

Tobio woke before dawn, and spent a few more hours tossing about in bed, as he dreaded what was coming. This morning he was scheduled to take a walk by the river with Princess Akaashi, because as his betrothed it was necessary to spend time with her. But Tobio had never been comfortable in one-on-one situations, especially with women, and most especially with a woman he considered the epitome of beauty and brains and power.

They met as planned at the front steps of the palace; she was waiting for him, but not alone. Beside her was a small woman in a loose maroon dress, with poor posture and blond hair cut above her shoulders. Without any idea of who it was, the presence of the third person still eased the prince slightly.

“This is my trusted Kenma,” the princess said. “On principle she attends me wherever I go. You may have noticed her, or you may have not, as she never intentionally makes her presence known.”

“I see,” he said.

Akaashi wore her curls pinned up, and certain loose singlets fell expertly in the back. She did not wear her tiara, but a wavy band of silver haloed her. A thin fabric, heavily patterned to make it less sheer, soothed over her shoulders and down to her wrists, cinched at her waist and cut in shorts halfway down her thighs. To his chagrin, she caught his eyes on their way up from her slender legs.

“You will notice that we display only so much of our bodies at once,” she said, reading him without effort. “This conduct applies to men also. I was admittedly shocked to see my future husband baring his chest at the dinner table of all places. Of course I had been briefed by advisors, as well as my own readings, but one can only learn so much secondhand, and never to the extent that the experience of it will come without a surprise.”

He had hardly listened, intent on forcing the blush down below his jawline.

“Now then, where will we be going?”

“I—I find—The river is the best place for walks, in my opinion.”

“That sounds pleasant. I will follow you.”

His steps past her were hesitant, but he moved into a proper stride as he went on, as his mind evened. Akaashi walked at his right, a quick half a step behind, and her servant tailed them at a small distance. The blond had her face pressed close to a small metal device that she held in her hands.

“I acknowledge that there is some logic in your choice of dress,” the princess said. “Your climate is hotter with more consistency. The majority of our population is a seaside one, you see.”

“Ah.”

“Have you ever been at sea?”

“I have not.”

“When I was young I accompanied diplomats on several journeys to our western isles. But I am not particularly fond of ships. How often will you return home, once we are married?”

“Ah…”

“Pardon me, the better question would be how often will you wish me to return with you?”

“I do not know. If my brother were to have need of me, I would come, but that is not likely.”

“He is capable in mind,” said the princess. “But there are qualities which you possess and which it is obvious he does not, but would benefit from.”

He made no answer to this, and looked to the river as a distraction. She did the same, winding with her eyes up the gentle curves in the murky blue-green. The sunlight sparkled pitilessly off the surface.

“This river must be a central part of you heritage. What is your fondest memory of it?”

He gave one shake of his head.

“There is no specific memory.”

“You are not the kind for charm or sentimentality, and that is no fault in my eyes,” she said. “I will be blunt, as your brother has already accused me. What is your expectation of the role you will play as wedded king?”

He looked her in the face, for a moment, then focused on a green spot beyond her.

“I will not be discontent,” he said. “My whole life my brother has been the figurehead, and I am used to the secondary role. I do not intend to make trouble.”

“What is your particular skillset? To this point you seem a level character, and direct, and with that in mind, did your self-guided studies lead to any exploration of military history? Or are you interested in dealing with business? Would you make a reasonable diplomat?”

“I do not know. I am not familiar with diplomacy, and have had no example of real military conquests in my lifetime, only that of home operations to keep our forces in fighting condition. As second I was never invited to the higher councils, so—” He took a moment to physically swallow down his pride. “You may blame any incompetency on my upbringing.”

“I see. In my opinion it is unwise to indulge one child with all knowledge and to neglect the other. If we are to have more than one, I intend for them all to be of use. Which brings me to questions of domesticity. We must have an heir. It is not optional. If I am unable to bear a child, the burden will be entirely on you to conceive by a blood relative of mine. It is distasteful, but we go to this extreme because our bloodline is everything to us.”

“Understandable.”

“Of course if I am unable you will not be asked to break your vow more than once. But if all is well, will you want a second, and so on.”

“I—…I do not see that my preference has any weight, as you will be the one to bear them.”

“I am an only child. You have one brother. Is it a valued experience to you?”

A nerve was visibly touched, as his midsection tensed. When he turned fast, Akaashi was not surprised, and though her eyes held a shallow pool of understanding, she did not back down.

“Every brother is different,” Tobio said. “I cannot guess what the experience would be for them.”

“Do you in your society condone beating the subordinate? In my culture we do not, under any circumstance, in any household. We do not beat the king’s wife, and we do not beat the baker’s. It is a practice I will insist you refrain from.”

“I do not know that my father ever harmed my mother. And I have no intention.”

“Have you been told that you have issues with temper?”

“I am not extremely patient. But I have never caused physical harm, as far as I know. And anyway—you seem—to have enough self-command for both of us.” He looked away from her. “If need be…”

“It is no flaw to have doubt in your control, because that doubt puts you on your guard. A small bit of humility goes a long way in protecting pride. Another question. Are you prepared to be married at a young age? Have you spent any time considering it, whether you desire a union of this kind, and whether you are mature enough to enter into it?”

Silence.

“I see that at least you have not thought of it enough to have a ready answer. I will ask a simpler question, if I may.”

“You may,” he said.

“What qualities do you wish for in a wife?”

A flash of orange went through his mind, and before he knew it his mouth had gone dry. The thought, fleetingly, had been for a wife who could rouse in him everything that the boy did. He bit hard on his lip.

“There is nothing I particularly dislike about you,” he said, “And that is all I can ask of a companion.”

“You believe we will get along.”

“I have no reason to think otherwise.”

“Am I beautiful?” Her face was unmoved. “In your eyes.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Very much.”

“Is that a fact you are grateful for?”

“A—I admit that it was what I expected, of a princess. I—assumed you to be. I did not expect, or, was not prepared, for so—much of it.”

“I see. Correct me if need be, but I am under the impression that the society of your creation values beauty more than education and intelligence.”

“We do not dedicate as much to studies. But we certainly value intelligence.”

“Of the natural kind.”

“Yes. In that you are far from disappointing anyone.”

“In your opinion, then, I am beautiful and intelligent. Do you also hope that I am honest, or forgiving, or as sexually capable as you? You cannot possibly justify a demand for purity, given your practices.”

An edge had slipped into her tone. He looked hard at her, forgetting for a moment his intimidation.

“You are not pure?” he said.

“I am. But I will not allow you to hold me to a double standard. Nor will I condescend to a competition of who has had the more thorough experience. And I will also add that I demand fidelity from the moment we are joined. Your brother informed me of his practice of keeping slaves even in spite of his marriage, which is a practice I will insist on your abandoning once you have pledged yourself to me. Our wedding can be postponed if at the time your desires have not yet been satisfied, but there will come the day when we must marry, and I say again that I fully expect and will not tolerate anything but total faithfulness to me. I hope I make myself clear in a manner that does not come off as hostile or offensive.”

“Your words are clear. I will be faithful, and I do not intend to postpone for any such reason.”

He nodded once, and after a moment of determined eyes meeting, she nodded back. They continued to move, rather briskly, down the path of the river.

“A final question, to complete this walk as a productive one,” she said. “What can I expect from you, as my husband?”

“What—do you wish your husband to be?”

“One who holds to his vows, and who does not abuse his position of power, to become an enemy of the people or of the throne. That is what I must be guaranteed. What you will be like as a companion is entirely dependent on you, and what I am asking you to tell me.”

“I do not talk about myself often, so my answer is bound to be unsatisfying.”

She watched him eye the ground, and say no more. She looked to the cruel sun.

“You are proud. But you are not arrogant. And although they amount to the same, are equally a sin against Heaven, your lack of arrogance makes you a much more bearable presence. You are perhaps not accustomed to praise of your appearance, given your brother’s more forwardly displayed beauty, but I agree with Shimizu-san’s assessment of you. I do not believe in wasting time on flattery or formality, and appreciate your direct honesty and tolerance of my persistent questioning.”

“I would like to—I will say,” he said, “That I find more pleasure in your company than most others I have known.”

Half a smile twisted on her lips, and in the sauciness and sly amusement he saw for the first time her real age. She was not a superhuman, at least not in entirety.

“That would be considered a good start, I suppose,” she said.

 

As the day wore on, Hinata discovered that he was currently being punished by method of house arrest. No one came to take him for his exercise, and the rich breakfast he had scarfed down was soon nagging to be burned out of him. He had not been inactive one day of his life, not even when he was ill.

So he began to dance, every sequence he could remember, from every dance he had been taught as he grew up. They were the dances of his people. He used the pillar as his partner, hopping and spinning around it, rattling the chain and kicking his heels. His hips flowed through each position, and snapped forward and back with an element of surprise.

Upon entrance, and the immediate sight of such aggressive movement, the prince started. Slowly his eyes made sense of it, and his hand went to the doorframe, seeking solidity, assurance of reality. He stayed silent, chest burning with the remains of the exhale that he had never finished, and he could not have spoken if he wanted to.

This outfit happened to be the most feminine one to date, and it suited, very well in Tobio’s opinion, the semi-sultry dance. The dark rose pink of the short skirt heated his skin into bloom. The ruffled hem whipped and tossed with the movement of his hips, but the boy was too fast to leave any distinct trace of the pale perky behind. His heels bounced, and his hips bucked as he sprang off one foot and onto the other. He raised his shackled wrists to spin under the chain, twirling in rapid succession as the dance reached its peak. One more burst of footwork left him frozen in the last pose, tipping back dramatically.

He straightened and stood facing the pillar, panting energetically, with a clean blush of activity in his whole face.

“I see that you do make use of your athleticism.”

He whirled. The brown went wide, then narrowed angrily; his lips parted, but the only sound from his throat was a choking.

“The clothes suit you for that activity.”

“I hate these clothes!” he said.

“Your movement is not restricted in them, and they reveal the areas of muscle you were attempting to show off.”

“I—I was not—”

“Your strength is unmatched to your stature. There is a saying from the gods, that strength is beauty, and beauty in motion is seduction.”

The cheeks burst into an angry red, but the boy was silent as he blushed sullenly. Then the prince came forward, with intentional but edging steps. Hinata backed away, and firmly turned his shoulder. Tobio’s eyelids flinched the smallest bit, but he did not break contact.

“What will I have to do to make you dance for me?”

“Drop dead.”

He kept the prince’s gaze a moment longer, as he turned his body full away. Then his head followed, and he sat down on his mat, facing the wall. Tobio stood silently, looking on.

 

At bath time, Hinata was found in good spirits; he gave each of the three a greeting, then followed quickly and quietly to the bath chamber. The sight of the bubbles foaming up over the top of the tub issued from him a gleeful giggle, which the servants turned their heads at. Once the precautionary rope had been tied around one ankle, and the chain removed from his hands, he leapt into the water, sending a wave onto the floor.

“No more of that,” Ennoshita said. “It may cause a fall.”

He peeked to check the damage. “I’m sorry.”

Narita doused him over the head, and as they began their diligent scrubbing, the boy hummed and tilted his head side to side with the tune. Ennoshita looked away for a moment, and turned back to see Hinata lasering at him.

“You’ve known the prince a long time,” he said. “Was he always as grouchy and selfish?”

“I have to admit that he was. But I believe his disposition is naturally a serious and impatient one, and neither is the pride and self-centeredness his fault. He was raised in it.”

“Is it awful to work for him?”

“Not unless you are equally as obsessed with your dignity as his people are with theirs. I put mine aside and have no trouble.”

“And those of us who work for Tobio-sama are very aware of our luck,” said Kinoshita.

“What do you mean?”

“It could always be worse. We could be under his brother. I do not like to think of the kind of things I might be told to do, if I belonged to Tooru-sama.”

“I always meant to ask you, Ennoshita-san,” said Narita, “Do you think Satori has always been as he is, or did he become that way by his devotion to the crown prince?”

“That I cannot even guess, though I would bet that his time under Tooru-sama has certainly not bettered him.”

“S—Satori?” Hinata said. “He has the red hair?”

“Yes, and if your chance meeting is the only time you ever deal with him, you should consider yourself blessed. I see the questions in your eyes, but we do not talk about Satori.”

“We are not supposed to talk about the princes either,” Kinoshita said.

“Hm? Why not?”

“What they do within the palace is intended to stay within the palace. We are not to gossip it to the outside world,” said Ennoshita. “This is also a way of maintaining an isolation between the servants and their former class. But as you know from living in the village, unflattering words about them still get around. In my opinion it is by the soldiers, who talk a little too freely at the pub, and unintentionally pass rumors off to the common classes.”

“But what’s so bad about Tooru Osu? How can he be worse? What does he do?”

“We cannot speak ill of him. It always seems to come back on us as punishment, if we do.”

“We think that he sends Satori around as a spy,” said Kinoshita.

“He could be listening right now,” said Narita.

Hinata’s eyes were big. Ennoshita leaned discreetly toward him, and spoke low.

“Let us just say that he has gone through more of you—your position, I mean, than we can keep track of. More than likely you would already be gone from the palace, if you were his, but you would leave in pain, in your body and even more your mind. He is an abuser of power. He has no mercy, and denies himself nothing. He can get what he wants from anyone, no matter how little they want to give it.”

The servant’s eyes were a darker, laid-back brown, with a spark of intelligence. He looked steadily at Hinata, and they flickered with warning.

 

When Tobio came in on this the seventh night, he brought a guilt offering to appease the boy he had so upset yesterday. Hinata was pacing at top speed, and stopped on the dot when he saw him. As the prince came near he observed the empty silver tray next to the boy’s bed.

“You do not miss meals. That is good.”

Silence.

“I have brought something for you.”

Hinata tensed all over, even rocking onto his tiptoes, in a comical mixture of eagerness and anxiety. Tobio held him in suspense for a long moment, in which neither face changed, and then in front of his body he unfolded the piece of fabric. It was a short sleeve shirt.

“For—me?”

Then he bolted forward, grabbed the shirt, and had run back to the wall before the prince could make a startled reaction. Hinata fingered the coarse linen, off-white with thick blue stripes stretching vertically. He stretched his short, linked arms and draped the shirt out in front of him; it covered nearly his whole height.

“It’s your size, not mine,” Hinata said. “I’m surprised you own a shirt, your people never wear them.”

“You are implying that we bare our chests too often?”

“Yes.”

“We celebrate our bodies. We are comfortable with them.”

“You only do it to be different than us. Because we cover ourselves and our skin stays light, you want to wear as little as possible, and have a tan on your skin. And you have a rule, so you can be sure it stays that way.”

“The rule is in line with your accepted custom, so why is it offensive to you?”

“But making it a rule takes away our choice. If we don’t have a choice, you’re taking our freedom and using our custom to excuse your orders.”

“Put on the shirt and be silent.”

“I will.”

He looked down at the shirt. His brow furrowed. He clenched his cuffed hands harder onto the material. When he raised his eyes back to Tobio, and they made contact, it was another few moments before the prince also came to understand the situation.

“Ah. I will help.”

He took a step, and Hinata stepped back.

“No! You’re not coming near me, I swear. And don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing, as if you’d show kindness that wasn’t part of your plan.”

“I had no plan. I will call in the servants to dress you, it makes no difference to me.”

“No, I don’t want them to. I don’t want to wear anything that belongs to you.”

He threw the shirt at the floor and turned away. Tobio clucked his tongue.

“I gift it, and now it belongs to you, so wear it without a conscience.”

“No.”

He lay down in his nest, wearing tonight’s tightly fitted and heavily laced number. He jerked the brown sheet over him, and was silent, leaving the prince with nothing but to retreat to his own quarters for the night.


	7. Chapter 7

When Hinata woke, the sight that met him was once again the prince near a window, apparently watching the sunrise. Hinata, feeling a chill, looked down and scrambled to adjust the frilly clothing. He covered only just in time, for the prince turned around the moment he heard the jangle of the chain.

“Did you sleep well?”

Hinata gave one rushed nod, then two smaller ones to better assert himself. Tobio stood across from him, with his legs spread shoulder-width, and his hands behind his back, which made his posture especially erect. An uneasiness in his eyes betrayed Hinata.

“I have a proposition for you,” said the prince.

The boy’s lips thinned, and his lids narrowed.

“Today is a celebration day, in honor of our guest the Princess. I have the duty of arranging entertainment for her. I wish for you to dance.”

“No! That’s humiliating, why would I ever—”

“Silence. You must hear my full offer.”

Hinata huffed through his nose, but did not speak.

“In exchange for cooperation, you will be given a shirt to sleep in,” Tobio said. “The servants will dress you in it after your bath each evening. And as your main reward, I will take you swimming. The second of our private gardens houses a pooling system, which traps and cleans the river water from the moat. I will take you there, and you may have the pool all to yourself. You said that you enjoy that activity, as it was something you did at home.”

Hinata’s mouth hung open. He sucked in a breath, and tilted his head the slightest bit at him.

“How long can I swim for?”

“For as long as you want, within a day’s period.”

His puckered lips shifted from one cheek to the other, pondering.

“And your chains will be removed, of course.”

His shoulders sank down, as he stared at Tobio and the realization hit. Suddenly he broke off his gaze and turned, pacing a few steps to the left, and back. He looked at him again.

“Just you and the princess? Are the only ones who will watch?”

“Her female servant may also be there.”

The boy swayed a little at the hips. His hands went to the sides of his hair and tugged.

“But I’m not a real dancer. I’m not even very good, where I come from.”

The prince said nothing, only looked back at him. Hinata spoke thoughtfully.

“I’m better when there’s music.”

“Then you will have it.”

“What kind of dance?”

“Whatever you are willing to perform. The theme does not matter.”

Hinata hummed softly as he scowled at the floor. Then he fell into a quick pacing.

“You’re engaged…Since you are going to be married, we have a dance for weddings. We have lots of dances for weddings, I mean, but this one we all learn, once we turn thirteen.” He turned fully toward him as he continued to explain. “While they’re preparing for the wedding, the couple chooses one friend or relative, hopefully who means something to both of them, and then during the party the couple sits together and the person does the dance around them. It brings good luck, so the more the person practices and the better they are at the dance, the healthier the couple will be, and the better at solving arguments, and better companionship and better fer—other things.”

His eyes had dropped. He clasped and unclasped his hands. When he raised his eyes again, Tobio nodded his consent.

“It’s the one I’ve had the most help to learn,” Hinata said.

“Choose what is best for you. I will bring her late this evening.”

“Here?”

“To the front chamber, if that suits you.”

He nodded shortly as he turned away. “I’ll start practicing.”

Tobio nodded to the boy’s back, and turned himself to move for the exit. He glanced once behind him. Then in the doorway he slowed, peeking from the hall in hopes of catching a few moments of action.

Hinata had bent his knees in preparation for something, but feeling the eyes he paused, and turned to glare. The prince left.

 

Tobio was headed toward the front entrance when he met the princess, who had just entered the same hall. She saw him, and was quicker to speak.

“I was wondering when I would see you.”

“You have been to the river? I am told,” he said.

“With your brother and his wife. The morning mist was beautiful. Now I have been instructed to refresh myself, before we go to the play. I assumed the comment to mean that I do not look as well as I should for this event, but my reply to your brother was that I am not an actor, and not the one on display. Will you be attending?”

“My brother sees today as a competition. In order to keep me in the dark as to what I am up against, he has not invited me.”

“You will be at dinner, I assume.”

“Yes. After which I wish for you to join me in my chambers,” he said stoutly. “If you will allow me to contribute to your entertainment.”

She nodded, curtly. “I look forward to it.”

Despite the pressure from his brother, and the mere fact of the princess’s existence, Tobio was not worried. His elder, though considered far more the people person, was wrong in his judgement this time. From what Tobio knew of her, the princess would prefer a more intimate, less grandiose setting, which was not a thing his brother excelled at, to his pleasure.

 

The prince returned to his chambers with a large party. When he entered, Hinata was standing still near the pillar and looking deep in thought. Narita and Kinoshita filed in, each carrying a pole which suspended a third pole between them, hung with items of clothing. The boy finally broke his stare and turned toward them, watching a group of people all similarly clad in red troop through the doorway. Then he shifted his curious gaze to the prince, who said:

“I have brought the musicians. You must teach them a suitable song, and practice with them.”

“It works with any kind of song,” was Hinata’s reply, “Even sad ones. It’s a very good dance, because of that. The couple chooses any music they like.”

“You will be the one choosing. Also, you must be dressed for the part.”

The smile was there and gone, leaving Tobio to recover breath while the boy was already next to the rack of clothing, puzzling over his options.

“Sometimes the person wears billow pants, the loose kind that wave around, but usually we wear a skirt, because that’s what the dance goes best with. But it has to be…” He combed through the row with his eyes, tapping his chin. “The right one.”

Then his little hand whipped out an orange bottom, with a gauzy overskirt and a satiny slip underneath. He held it toward Tobio.

“You would wear something like this on any old day? You’re so strange.”

“I would not wear that. These were made specifically for you.”

“But if you had a sister, or the princess lived here, she would probably wear this.” He turned to Ennoshita. “Will you put it on me, so I can see how it fits, please?”

Narita and Kinoshita each took hold of the skirt. Hinata stepped into it and they pulled it over his current garment. Ennoshita feigned casual and stood between the boy and the prince, to grant Hinata the privacy he likely wanted, while at the same time avoiding the wrath of his superior. Then the three stepped back.

“The orange, with your hair,” said Kinoshita, “Is somewhat…”

“If Semi approved it to be sent, it is fine,” said Tobio, pulling his eyes slowly up and down.

Hinata looked down at himself for a moment. Then suddenly his hips jerked, almost of their own accord, and all four of the palace dwellers moved back. Hinata flicked his hip again, and a third time, watching how the two pieces of the skirt flowed into one another, then floated down to a rest against his leg.

Then he looked up at Tobio, who could not keep his eyes from reacting.

“It should be shorter,” Hinata said. “Just a little, right to here.”

“Bring Semi,” the prince said to Ennoshita. To the boy he said: “Our seamstress will do what is needed for you. I must go now and prepare for dinner. I will bring the Princess with me after we have finished.”

“Wait! I—Could I have some of the little chains you wear? That the rich people wear when they go out on the river in their boats, and have their parties. Those jewels that hang down on their legs?”

“Jewelry seems appropriate,” Ennoshita murmured.

“We never wear things like that, but it will make me look more like a performer. Don’t you think?”

He looked from Tobio to Ennoshita.

“See that he gets some,” said the prince. He moved for the door. “I will be back soon.”

“Do you think I look good, Narita-san?” he heard the boy chattering behind him. “Do I look like a gypsy?”

“All I know is that you look very orange.”

“Never mind that! Once I put on some other colors will I look good for the princess?”

“You will be a beautiful dancing mandarin,” said Kinoshita.

“Oi, stop, you’re going to make me nervous!”

 

When Tobio joined the party in the dining hall, he walked in on his own nightmare. His brother could not have selected a worse array of young men, in his opinion, and additionally he himself was seated at the bottom of the table, directly across from his brother, and farthest from the only empty chair.

The princess was not there yet; he attributed this to scheming by Tooru, as the princess had been pointedly polite since the moment of her arrival. He predicted that his brother had deliberately given her a late time in order to create an impressive presentation of the guest of honor, a prediction which proved true when Akaashi marched through the doorway with a none too pleased expression. She wore a long lavender gown with lace sleeves and a deep, thin V in the chest. The gap in the fabric was covered in a thickly strung triangle of white jewels. Tobio rose fast from his chair, a natural reaction. His brother stood as proper, and ordered the others to their feet.

“All rise.”

Hanamaki’s eyes were on the princess, but he was in the middle of a deep swig of wine, and had to be elbowed from his seat by the neighboring Matsukawa.

“On my left is Kuroo. Bokuto. Kei.”

They sat down as they were mentioned.

“On your right is Matsukawa. Hanamaki. And Tobio-chan, at my opposite.”

The younger sat down, jaw clenched.

Akaashi’s head turned slowly, her face full of harshly obvious scrutiny. It was silent as they watched her. Hanamaki and his friend raised a brow at each other. Kuroo was laughing silently, as Bokuto looked the awed idiot.

“My gender is underrepresented here,” the princess said. “Did you not give an invitation to your wife? Who some would call your other half?”

“This party,” said Tooru, “Was assembled in hopes of creating a pleasant—a light—dinner mood, if you will. It is only on your account that Tobio is here, as I took into consideration ability to entertain.”

“Please refrain from slighting your relations while I am sharing a table with you.”

With that she took her seat. Hanamaki choked on a laugh, and Matsukawa cracked a smile.

“As you wish,” said the prince. He sat.

“If I had been informed that we were the entertainment,” Hanamaki said, “I would have worn something more to advantage.”

“I warned you not to leave your jester’s hat at home,” said his friend.

“Never mind, I have a trick for getting into character.” He took a drink of wine, wagging his eyebrows above the rim of his cup. Kuroo and Bokuto snickered.

“I expect good behavior, Hanamaki,” said Tooru behind his goblet.

“Forgive me, but I would appreciate it if you made up your mind.”

“But what is it,” said Kuroo, “That the Princess finds entertaining? We should learn her wishes, and act on them.”

“That is true, where she comes from they might have a different definition of entertaining,” said Matsukawa. “Perhaps we are expected to talk about business.”

“If that is the case he has clearly invited the wrong party,” said Kei.

“My vote is not for business.” Hanamaki took another drink.

“If you wish to hear her, be silent and do so,” said Tobio.

“Well said, Brother. You are the most decent of my guests so far. Not that I expected otherwise.”

“She has that fixed expression,” Hanamaki muttered to his neighbor, perfectly loud enough for Akaashi next to him to hear. “Are you a distant relation, Mattsun?”

“You know my father as well as I.”

“A spectacular bastard.”

“He says he is of noble descent, but where is the truth in what he says? It is all obvious in what he does.”

“Who he does.”

“Precisely,” he said over howls of laughter.

“I am surprised at this revelation,” said Akaashi, and the room went still. Her face and voice remained the same, though all eyes were on her.

“You admit that there is doubt as to your lineage, but I was under the impression that this was your claim to a place at this table. I know none of you to be advisors, and simple observation tells me you have no affiliation with the militia. If you are scholars, you will be unproductive and outrageously overpaid ones. Having made those deductions, I was left to assume that you are nobles by birth and nothing more.”

The silence was filled by Tooru’s chuckle.

“What a wonderful picture you have painted for yourselves. And we have only just begun the evening.”

“If she were promised to you, Tooru-sama,” said Kuroo, “I would fear for the state of the country. You are both sharper than is healthy.”

“Education would run amuck, and ignorance far too little,” said Matsukawa.

“I am thinking of the terror their child would be,” said Hanamaki. “Tobio should be glad to leave, and avoid being the sitter to it.”

“I know how you enjoy speculation,” Tooru said, “But I will not have you talk more on things which are never to be.”

“I second your request,” said the princess. He gave her a nod.

“This is to be a cultural experience. How are you enjoying the victuals?”

“Your drink is very strong,” she said. “It dulls the meal.”

“At first,” said Bokuto, “But once you are used to it, it improves the taste of everything.”

“I agree, but not in your case,” said Kuroo. “You drink until you can no longer distinguish taste, and once everything tastes like the drink, everything tastes good.”

Bokuto laughed.

Tobio’s brained was bathing in waves of anger. The shame of being associated with these people was beyond explanation. He recalled the days when his father formed the parties, of old men who did nothing more harmful than complain about business and the state of affairs. Their company was certainly preferable to this, and he knew that Akaashi would agree. He tried to be very discrete in his looks toward her. From the glimpses he could not tell exactly the expression she wore.

“What I would like to know,” Hanamaki drawled, “If you do not mind explaining, Akaashi-sama, is why…” He drained his cup. “Why the women of your country, blessedly gorgeous women such as yourself, should take so much care to cover themselves, similarly to the common class whore in our country.”

“I was thinking the very same,” said Kuroo, gesturing with intensity.

“Maybe it is the opposite of here,” said Matsukawa. “The whores there expose themselves, rather than dressing up their impurity in false pretense.”

Hanamaki spoke again. “Or maybe it is not opposite, it is the same. They are whores who use clothing to cover their ‘treasures,’ which have been treasured by far too many people.”

This was followed by a chorus of snorting laughter. Tobio’s lips were parted, knowing that he ought to defend her from such a crude attack on her culture, but for one moment he hesitated, and it was Akaashi herself who filled the silence.

“I cannot resent an honest opinion. Even if you are only brave enough to venture it under the influence of wine. But be warned, you are granting me the right to just as much honesty.”

“Interesting,” said Hanamaki. “I was not under the impression that you have been holding back.”

“Hanamaki, you are trying my patience tonight,” said Tooru. But his eyes glittered, and his tone was slippery, not firm.

“What is your opinion of me?” Akaashi said stoutly. “Speak up, any of you. I am interested in hearing.”

Her left brow was cocked most dangerously, and her eye punctured the stillness of the room with a dreadful dare. The men all looked intently at her, in silence, until Bokuto glanced at the goblet in his hand, then back at the princess, now grinning.

“You are immune to wine. It amazes me. If a drink of this quality can’t remove the stick from your rear, I don’t think anything can.”

There were several choking sounds, mostly muffled by the scrape of Tobio’s chair against the floor as he shoved violently back from the table. He made to stand up, but caught his brother’s eye, and locked down on him with an incensed glare. Tooru’s eyes pricked back at him.

“You have a creative mind.”

Every eye froze to her face. Akaashi was still looking at Bokuto.

“May I offer my assessment in return?”

Bokuto’s mouth flopped uselessly, and the others seemed to get more silent than before. The young man stuttered a nod, and swallowed hard, with the princess’s beautiful terrible face bearing down on him. Akaashi seemed to disregard the fact that the room was holding its breath, because she continued in her assertive yet conversational tone.

“As for you and your friend, if I had arrived here to the sight of this whole population wearing their hair in such a ridiculous manner, I would have returned to my ship without speaking to anyone.”

Laughter exploded from Hanamaki and his friend, and Kei choked down chuckles. Kuroo cackled out:

“You should have listened when I told you that you looked like a great ridiculous bird of prey.”

“She said that yours was ridiculous too!” Bokuto said.

“She was speaking directly to you and your grey horned greatness.”

“You are obviously the mentioned friend!”

“Silence yourselves,” said the crown prince. His lips were twisted at Akaashi. “The princess has more to say.”

She turned her pretty head to her neighbors, Hanamaki and Matsukawa. They both raised eyebrows at her.

“You apparently value your sexual quests too much to involve yourselves in a healthily committed union, despite the fact that it would change very little about your arrangement, as I suspect you undertake nearly all of said quests together.”

Kuroo and Bokuto howled, and Tooru’s light ha’s sounded, while the friends exchanged slightly perturbed expressions. Hanamaki cracked a smile, but could not speak.

“And you.” She turned to Kei. “It is clear on your face that you recognize the flaw in your choices and their detriment to your once promising future, and since you are aware of this I have no pity for you.”

The men laughed, especially hard at Kei’s angry red cheeks. Tobio’s scowl had softened for a moment, and his mouth twitched a single time.

“Now for the dear boy prince. Do your lover,” said Hanamaki.

“You are the cruelest old locust when you drink, Makki,” said Kuroo. “She will eat him alive and swallow him whole.”

“The carnage is not appropriate for a pleasant dinner among superior company,” said Matsukawa, not with a completely straight face.

“What is a little more carnage, added to the decimation of my good opinion of you?” said the princess.

They exploded into hysterics, Tooru included. The remainder of the meal saw Tobio burning in silent humiliation, and Akaashi answering the drunkards only when directly addressed, and in as few words as could be managed. They were the first two out of the hall, and as he turned to her the inflammation of his nerves reached its peak.

“I—am—”

She held up a slender hand. “You owe no words.”

He quickly bowed, and swallowed hard before straightening. Still he could not meet her eyes.

“I request a few minutes alone in my chamber, to check that everything is ready.”

“Yes, I will follow shortly.”

He left, feigning a relaxed pace. Akaashi had nothing to do but wait in the hall, and consequently no excuse to leave when Tooru joined her there. She saw him from the corner of her eye.

“Princess.”

She did not turn.

“Akaashi-san,” he purred.

She faced him.

“I do not wish for us to part on bad terms. I know tonight’s gathering did not give you the intended pleasure, and it is a miserable failure on my part.”

“There is no need to make amends, and I mean what I say.”

“If there truly is no need, please allow me to say goodnight.”

He offered his hand. Her frown was steady at his inviting face, but the reluctance did not show in the movement of her hand. Tooru took it, stretched a leg back to move into a low bow, and kissed behind her sharp knuckles.

“Sleep well, my diamond.”

He straightened up. Then suddenly Akaashi was pulled near to him, so that her chin hovered inches from his forehead. The prince kept his face angled down and in shadow, and murmured into the back of her hand.

“By now you know that my brother is dear to me.” He raised his head, and his eyes glittered at her. “I will not give him up…for nothing.”

She showed not a single reaction; even her eyes did not flinch. She waited for the release of her hand. Then she turned and strode away.

 

The prince sped around the corner into his front chamber, taking notice of none of the arrangements that had been made in preparation for the performance. He lurched his way through the hall and into the inner room, and despite the number of people present he received no immediate greeting. They were a buzzing mass of irked musicians, stressed servants, and amused guards. Ennoshita was attempting to mediate between a vexed Hinata and the band conductor.

“Majesty!”

Ennoshita had seen him, and suddenly the room was silent. Tobio did not instantly respond; his first action was to check whether the boy was also looking at him. The eyes burned a dark, wide amber.

“The princess will come very shortly,” he said. “Kinoshita and Narita, go out to meet her when she arrives, and take her to her seat.”

“Yes Majesty.”

“Yes Majesty.”

They hurried past.

“I assume the performers are ready?”

“Yes, they—Well—We will see.” Ennoshita mumbled the last to himself. To the prince he nodded.

“The musicians may go.”

“Ah—It was decided that they would lead the dancer out,” said Ennoshita. “That is, I believe it was decided?”

The conductor affirmed with a nod. Tobio made eye contact with the pair of guards and waved them out. Then he came nearer to the boy, looking him up and down.

“Semi worked on him?”

“Yes, but—You should know, he said that he would not do so again. They did not—” Ennoshita leaned in a little “See eye to eye…”

“He wanted me to dress like a—a harlot in her room, not a dancer.”

“There does not seem to have been a consequence to that,” the prince said. “He looks—well.”

Tucked into the top of the flaming skirt was a sleeveless black shirt, twisted tightly around him so that the front V was only a small one. On each ankle, and stacked halfway up the shins, were thin gold bracelets, loose enough to jangle together when he bounced from the back to the front of his bare feet. There were three bracelets on his left wrist, one white with tiny diamonds, and a single band of gold on his right arm. Delicate chains came down from under the skirt, gracing his thick thighs, the gold precious against the white skin. As Tobio watched closely, the boy’s hips twisted, and under his skin the muscles flinched at random.

“You are showing fear,” he said.

“Uh! I am not, I am not afraid!”

“There is great pressure to perform in front of royalty, even with years of training. What you feel is not unnatural.”

Though Hinata’s eyes remained wide and spooked, his lips melded into the nastiest smirk imaginable.

“I’m definitely not afraid of you. I don’t care a bit what you think, compared to the princess, who’s beautiful and kind and smart—”

His mouth twisted in pain as his own words affected him. Now Tobio was nervous too. He certainly did not want to look the fool in front of his fiancé, nor to endure his brother’s taunting when the failure was found out. He also dreaded the prospect of watching the boy humiliate himself; the secondhand embarrassment would kill him.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the silent appearance of Kinoshita, who gestured from the hall to mean that the princess had arrived. The time had come.

“Prepare yourselves,” the prince said.

“To your places, please,” said Ennoshita.

There was a raising of noise and a frenzy to get in the proper line, with Hinata steered into place at the very back by the head servant.

“You may remove the chains,” Tobio said over the din.

The boy’s head whipped around, and his eyes grew to bulging saucers. He closed his mouth and his jaw and lip flattened into a hard line.

“I—I thought—the deal was to unchain me for swimming.”

“Will it not be easier to dance with your hands free?”

“Ah—Yes…”

Then, a coolness crept into the bubbling aura, and a seriousness seemed to radiate off him. Tobio turned in some uncertainty, and moved toward the hallway.

“I won’t disappoint you.”

The prince stopped and looked back. Hinata’s eyes were straight ahead and did not so much as flicker toward him. They burned clear.

Tobio went out into the front chamber, where Akaashi was seated on an elaborate pile of cushions. Her small servant huddled behind her to the right, on a single cushion, her mind apparently absorbed in the trinket she held. The room was not lit by the high lights, only by torches along two of its walls. Akaashi’s hair looked even darker, and her eyes more hooded, in this environment, and the prince could not help the flutter in his lower chest when she looked up at him and gave the smallest of upturns in her cheek. One fine hand brushed across the seat beside her, and her eyes were cool as they invited him. He sat to her left and had no trouble looking her in the face, now that he had purpose in his speech.

“I have arranged a performance of a traditional dance. It is not a part of my heritage, but a local heritage nonetheless.”

She gave a single nod, indicating to him that she knew which group would be represented.

“The dance is one performed during the wedding celebration, so it seemed—somewhat appropriate to me,” he pressed. “It is said to bring good fortune and happiness, when performed well. I will leave the judgement to you.”

“Very well.”

Tobio turned and signaled to Kinoshita, who moved into the back chamber to repeat the sign to his comrade. Then a low, slow reed instrument could be heard. A moment later the musician came out, followed in pairs by other players. They filed past the two guards, who stood sentient on either side of the blank wall space in front of the three spectators. The reed was joined by a soft thumping drum, as the small band grouped together to the right of the staging area. The boy appeared last, with the two servants flaking off to stick to the sides of the doorway. They each had a ready shackle in their hands, but this went unnoticed, as without a doubt the little dancer stole the attention of the entire room.

Hinata walked with his wrists close in front of him, as if he were still in the chains. His eyes never wavered to the side, as he marched to a certain place on the floor and stood with his back to the room, now without a hint of jitter in his limbs. Tobio felt the princess’s eyes move sideways to him, but he did not move his own.

Suddenly the reed instrument was accelerating, into a rolling scale up and back down. In the valley it was joined by a low, muted chorus of the other instrument voices, and then every eye focused eagerly on the small white hand brought flowingly up above the boy’s head. His wrist was open, and his teeny index finger cocked back a bit farther than the rest; Tobio didn’t know why he had noticed it, but now his attention was drawn away by the bare leg which Hinata stretched out behind him. The prince’s breath stuck. Hinata pulled his weight through the leg and turned around, looking down at them with a very confident, very playful smile, which was merely part of his character portrayal, but nevertheless made Tobio’s stomach wrench into his throat.

Hinata was not the best technical dancer; anyone could see the flaws in his execution. But the energy was in the right place, and there was an abundance of it. Hinata had chosen a fast arrangement of music, and in the prince’s eyes he was moving with incredible speed and agility. He partly wished that it would slow down, that he could take the time to analyze and memorize every twist and hop, but he could not wish it with all his mind, because there was something intoxicating about the flurry of movement. He could not resist its flow.

As he had described it, the boy was literally dancing around them, jumping circles with the occasional lightning pause in which he shimmied low or did a step sequence. Though the moves seemed free there was patterning to them; certain bows and hip tosses were consistent each time Hinata circled back around to the side of the princess, and other kicks and shakes were featured on the prince’s side. Toward Tobio the boy’s expression was mostly focused; his laughing eye catches and little smirks of the cheek were almost entirely directed at the princess, but they still made Tobio’s heart thud painfully out of rhythm. There was so much vivacity, happy, vibrating. The music and dance were somewhat sultry in themselves, but there was an element of sexiness that the boy conjured independently. The prince had not known of its existence until now. The stretch of a leg, the pop of a hip, the stubby limbs suited so well to the lavish stacks of bands and the bouncing chains.

As the tune sped toward climax the movements got wilder, but it did not appear that he was struggling to keep up. Hinata threw his head back and his body followed; with his hands on the floor and feet in the air there was a second when the skirt slipped up his thighs, but he was back onto his feet so fast that it revealed nothing. His hand wove down the side of his body, then the other joined it at his hip and he moved his wrists in a complex sequence. His hands snaked back up above his head, and he pulled them down slowly behind him as his feet stomped out a furious rhythm to match the drumbeat. He was near Akaashi at this moment, and a real smile with teeth crept up as his head lolled back in false ease. Tobio’s expression was viciously concentrated to him.

Hinata bounced from heel to toe in the final phase of the dance, landing soundly in the place he had started, and bowed with a swish of his arm as the reed instrument dribbled out the dying notes. Ennoshita and Kinoshita were on the staging area almost before it was over. The huffing boy offered his wrists to the shackles. Akaashi had gotten only one clap in by the time he was gone from the room. She turned slowly to look at Tobio, as she continued her muted applause with aligned hands.

The prince did not want to give his attention. He wanted to go to Hinata now, while the speed, the flex of the body was there in his mind’s eye, and the flush and tingle of exhaustion were in the boy’s skin.

“Your slave has more than one use.”

He nodded stiffly, distractedly.

“You may tell your brother that you have won this day, and all the days so far. I enjoyed myself much more in those minutes than in all my hours at his activities, exciting as they may have been.”

The slight of his brother drew him a little from his thoughts.

“My approval of you extends much farther than that of the company you keep here in your homeland. You are not as I expected to find you, and the report that I bring back will be highly unbelievable.”

She was looking fully at him. Tobio only half turned his head, and he moved his eyes back and forth from her.

“You have earned nothing less than my complete honesty. And yes,” she said at his look, “Up to this point you have not received it. Not all.”

He shifted his shoulders toward her, eyes now fully intent. She gave one slant of her chin.

“As I said, I did not expect to approve of you. For that reason, I intended to withhold certain information, but now I am obligated to reveal everything to you, or I would be doing you a disservice. There is a plot. It is the doing of my parents and their advisors, and I was initially in agreement with it. Just before we marry, I am to become pregnant by another man, and once we have consummated our union, I am to pass the child off as your product. My parents are in the process of selecting a worthy partner for me, because they do not want mixing of the bloodlines. It is a very old prejudice against your people and your ways which motivates us. Because we do not approve of you, we do not want to give you a true presence in our throne.”

“I…see…”

“This peace offering is a false one on our side. At the surface there would be reconciliation and cooperation, as an example to our people, but my noble line would retain its pure blood, and the knowledge of that. Now my view has changed, partially. Forgive me, but I still do not care whether your family is taken advantage of. I do care that you are not blindly tricked. The future of our relationship is in your hands, and I will not be bitter if you so choose to end the engagement. I am willing to pledge my loyalty to you when we wed, and if you deem it necessary I will have the child by you, and my parents will be the ones deceived. Or, if by some measure of grace you do not see the original plan as a great disrespect, we may continue in it.”

The prince was silent, and she allowed him several seconds, before she said:

“I understand that because I have admitted to lying up to this point, you have no reason to believe me now.”

“I do believe. You would not tell me something which reflects poorly on you, if it were not true. I do not mean that it has reflected poorly,” he hurried. “Because you told me, it does not.”

“I will not deny my role nor my indecency.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “You were—willing to be unfaithful…”

“It was my only point of discomfort. But hearing your customs explained put me at ease. It would have been a great hypocrisy, however I admit that I would not have been guilty over it if you were not as you are.”

He nodded once, and she watched his thoughtful scowl.

“There is also the option of confronting my parents. At your order I will make known to them my intention of uniting in all things with you. They respect me, and I will do what is necessary to convince them of your worth. Of course I do not expect you to make a decision without considering it for a period.”

“I do not—It does not seem—I do not believe that it makes a difference to my destiny,” he said. “If you do not, or your parents do not, wish to have the heir by me, that is your own choice. My path—has been set out for me, and I will continue on it as planned.”

“My deception does not concern you, for the state of our relationship? I intended to gain a mutual trust, after we had grown together for some time, but now will you be weary of me?”

He finally looked with steady eyes.

“Yours is one lie. I have known my brother seventeen years, and all his life is a lie to me. If I have a tolerance to anything…it is untruth.”

His chest twinged as he read in her eyes the caged, but strong, empathy. Akaashi spoke low.

“I am sorry to contribute to it.”

 

When Tobio was finally able, his rushing across the flawless stone proved to be of no purpose. He looked down where the boy lay at his feet, asleep in his small nest of a bed, curled within the long cloth of the shirt which covered all the skin from his elbows to his ankles. Nevertheless, the prince’s eyes darted all over what he could see; the fingers intertwined tightly, clinging for safety, the toes curled and the ankles pressed into each other. A rosy cheek glowed under the flame of hair. It was completely silent, except for the tiniest of sighs when the boy’s breath came out his nose.

Tobio turned, and removed himself to his own bed.

Hinata flinched when the prince’s shadow passed over him, but it took several seconds to become actually awake. He sat up and turned his head, and his heart gave a small jump when he saw the prince. His evening attire consisted of a pale blue sash, the ends of which tucked into a belt at his left hip; now he was pulling the sash loose, and it fell away from his shoulder. Bare-backed, he stood up. A loincloth still clung to his lower half, attached to the belt, but it was not the focus of Hinata’s attention. The prince reached up to close the opposite curtain, with a long arm waved by ridges of muscle. His shoulder blade shifted under the skin. The tendons of his back extended, and the groove of his spine dipped deep.

The boy was watching, with round eyes, his lips a trace parted. Upon realizing, he turned violently away and went into his previous position, on his side with his back to the room. He tried to quiet the stream of quick breaths, and shivered under the influence of the guilty churn in his lower stomach. He gripped hard on the fabric above his thumping heart.

Unbeknownst to Hinata, they were both lying awake. The prince stared at the canopy over his bed, perfectly alert. He had never had more to think of in his life.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some unexpected free time, and this chapter came out easily, so here you go. Sorry that I can’t project a consistent schedule for the future.

The day after the performance, Hinata was taken as promised to the private pool area. The prince was his only escort; they moved through a heavy door into dazzling light, and when the boy’s eyes had adjusted they sparked, and his mouth opened into the sunshiny expression of surprise and pleasure.

A rectangular cutout of stone held the water. The left and right walls were almost entirely covered in lush mosses, and dotted with huge pointed blooms of orange and pink. The third wall was not a wall at all, only a stone archway which supported a curtain of vines, of various thicknesses, whose ends descended into the water and flourished from its moisture. Small gaps revealed the blue sky and green grass of the world outside. The boy’s aura beamed. This joy was another mood Tobio had not seen on him before.

Hinata shed his shirt, leapt far out into the clear water, resurfaced and pushed the hair back from his forehead.

“Do you come here very often? Has it been here since you were young?”

“It was finished the year I was born.” The prince settled himself on a low stool of woven reeds. “I came more often as a child than now.”

“Why? It’s so nice.”

Then he bobbed under the surface, and the prince did not bother to answer. For some minutes he splashed around. When he had resigned for a time to floating on his back, Tobio spoke again.

“Why were you so certain that I would keep my promise?”

The orange head whipped toward him.

“You thought of breaking it?”

“My question is whether you think that I thought of it.”

“Of course not! Where I come from people don’t make promises unless they’re going to keep them. People who do that are either stupid or cruel.”

His face was half a frown, half a pout, and fully amusing.

“Then I was correct in my suspicion,” said the prince. “My betrayal would have devastated you.”

“That is not true,” he miffed. “I don’t expect anything from your people, they’ve never shown my family a kindness since our beginning. Besides, before you can betray someone you have to have their trust.”

He swam away.

Tobio settled into an uncharacteristically peaceful mood as he watched, attentively, the boy’s laps and lunges and shakes of his wet head. The movements were not much like those of the dance, but there was still the element of furious activity, and still the flex and stretch of compact muscles. And there were the smiles. He had never been around someone, or even thought such a person existed, who was capable of so many genuine expressions of pleasure. As he watched the prince lost his edginess, and his sense of time. He did not immediately note that Hinata had been under the water for a suspiciously long duration.

He stood up.

“Hinata. You, where are you?” he demanded. “Hinata. Vermin!”

He launched himself like an arrow into the pool, opened his eyes and swam furiously, scanning his surroundings. When he reached the filter which separated the moat, he surfaced, and reached out a hand to part the curtain of vines.

“Osu-san.”

The dark head jerked around, scattering droplets. Hinata was bobbing in the palace end of the pool, with a grin under his sodden hair.

“Were you going to catch me, Osu?”

“To drown you, more like.”

Hinata laughed. It was the first time he had heard it, and everything inside him stopped, while the rest of the world burst into color. The water sparkled painfully bright, and the blossoms on the walls bloomed more as the laugh tinkled out its dying string of notes. He looked around them and back at Hinata with an accusing eye.

It still rang in his ears as Tobio waded to the side of the pool. He lunged up on his arms and got out, dripping. Hinata had already made his exit and was standing with his head buried inside his shirt. When he pulled it out, the orange was frazzled back into its normal floof. He put the shirt on. The prince approached him to replace the shackles. When he had, the boy hopped away.

“I thought of you for a long time, last night.”

“Probably rude things,” said Hinata, “So I’m not flattered.”

Then he flinched in alarm at the intensity of the prince’s look.

“You were modest in your self-assessment,” Tobio said. “All of you friends must want you to perform at their weddings.”

“I don’t know, none of my good friends have been married yet.” He took a step back.

“That is a shame.”

Tobio was moving slowly to him. Hinata backed toward the palace wall, growing more nervous.

“The princess applauded you, after you had gone.”

“She did?” He leaned forward.

“She said it had been the most enjoyable part of her day.”

The boy looked to the side, starting to turn pink. A smile crept up, turning his cheeks into rosy peaches. Tobio took another step, and the boy’s eyes faltered.

“Do you believe you have brought good fortune to my marriage?”

“I—I tried my best…”

“Will we have strong and beautiful children?”

“You don’t need good fortune for that. A—Because of the princess.”

His color had darkened. Tobio moved again, and Hinata now backed fully against the wall, with his hands to one side and his shoulders tensed.

“What happens after the dance?” the prince said. “During the ceremony, after the dance what do they do?”

The boy turned his head away, blushing angrily. But he answered:

“They—kiss, usually.”

“That is what I thought should happen.”

Hinata’s eyes moved back onto his face.

“Did you kiss the princess once I was gone?”

“No.”

“You’re not allowed to?”

“I could if I wanted.”

“Were you scared?” His smirk slanted.

“No. It was not…what I wanted.”

The prince had one palm pushed to the wall above the boy, and now his other hand copied. He leaned, down and in. Hinata instantly dropped his eyes. The prince tilted to the left, still leaning closer; when he was an inch or two from the pale skin of the boy’s neck, he breathed light against it, and ghosted his lips. With a deepish inhale he took in the scent, fruity sweet, and clean from the water.

Then he pressed a kiss, one, onto his neck. The muscle was taunt, but Tobio did not notice.

He moved fast to the velvet spot under the jawline and pushed with his lips, pushed twice, pushed three, and four. He huffed and pressed again, pulling up the flesh, such a combination of hot and smooth that it almost felt liquid.

Hinata erupted in goosebumps. His eyes were wide, his jaw clenched. He pressed himself harder into the wall, hands curling into fists. He could not inhale. Tobio, in his attempt to get air while keeping desperately in touch with the skin, made a light accidental snap of the mouth. The sound befuddled him, creating a pause. He heard his own breath puff out into the hot space between them. His mind was slowing down, and he drug himself back.

He looked the boy in the face. Hinata was perfectly still, watching him through half-closed lids, not making direct contact. Tobio leaned toward his lips, but focused on his eyes. He came close, slowly, steadily—

Hinata turned away.

He had not met his gaze. The prince straightened up, taking one hand off the wall, but still looked down at him with longing. Hinata gave one glancing glare. With that, Tobio turned slowly on his heel, and led the redhead back into the palace.

 

In the evening the prince received a summons from his brother. It was too early to be the call to dinner, and the less Tobio could infer about the situation, the less he wanted to join it, so he went slowly, both the longest way around the palace and at the slowest pace he could hold himself to. He had been ordered to the highest west tower wing, where he found his brother alone, leaning against the wall and gazing out the window, as his dexterous fingers stroked the petals of some flowers on a table.

“What is it?” Tobio said. “You are in need of something?”

Tooru darted a shrewd eyeball at him.

“Only of your company, dear one.” He turned fully, then lolled his head to the side. “I miss our talks. Since the arrival of your prized princess you have given no time to me. I cannot blame you for that, but it still hurts, knowing that I will not be missed when you go so far away.”

“I will dearly miss the purposeless conversation,” he replied.

Tooru gasped in mockery. “I see you have already begun to adopt her airs. Be careful.”

The crown prince turned his attention to the vase of lilies. He drew one out, snapped the stem short, and moved it toward his brother’s head. Tobio pulled away from it, so Tooru set the bloom in his own brown hair, above his right ear.

“You are a cruel one, Brother,” said Tooru. “I am the one with the poor reputation for it, but you are the true winner. Have you not tortured the boy enough?”

Tobio’s eyes blinked wide.

“When will your game end? The poor thing is going to suffer a nervous breakdown, if you do not move the process along.”

“What makes you certain that I have not? Moved it along?”

His brother gave a nasty smirk of pity. Tobio flushed.

“Why do you delay? He has been here—nine days, is it? I do not understand your motivation.”

“It is not necessary for you to understand. Do not trouble yourself farther.”

Tooru gave a high ring of laughter.

“Even you know that answer would never satisfy. Are you afraid?”

“If there is a true reason I was called, give it.”

“Must he like you, is that it? Yes,” said Tooru to himself. “Perhaps it is different. You are not assured of Akaashi-san’s affection toward you, nor have you any known admirers to date, and so you feel the need to secure an attachment from him.”

He smiled at his brother.

“Yours is one of the sweetest stories I have heard.”

“I will not stay to be mocked.”

The crown prince sighed. He pulled the flower from his hair and dropped it on the ground.

“It was Father who summoned, not I. He believes he has reached the end. Again. He requests all the family, and does not wish to delay meeting the princess.”

The threat of death was not taken so seriously as the mention of the princess.

“I—will send for her.”

Tooru nodded.

 

After he had explained the situation, Akaashi followed him wordlessly to the deep interior of the palace. Tooru’s family was already waiting at the door, the husband speaking low to his wife. He put on a small smile and bowed to the princess. Shimizu bowed longer, and the Little Prince longest of all. The advisor Ukai opened the door to admit them.

The ailing king was propped weakly against the elaborate wooden headboard. He opened his mouth the moment his eldest child had stepped foot in the room, but did not manage to produce a sound until the whole party had gathered inside.

“Is a dying man’s summons not enough to instill urgency in you? I have been sitting up and exhausting myself for three quarters of an hour.”

“Surely that is of no great consequence, Majesty,” said Tooru, “If you believe your termination is inevitably at hand.”

His father’s reply lacked conviction.

“How dare you subject me to more insolence. As if it has not significantly shortened the years of my life.”

He was speaking to his own feet, stretched in front of him under the bedding. Now his eyes slowly rose, but seemed to shake in their sockets, dizzying over the large group.

“Where is she? My younger son’s fate. The cruel irony of life…Never did I think I would live to see a day when I must welcome one of their kind into my chamber.”

The others watched Akaashi’s sure steps forward. The king pushed his head back to frame her face within his sight. He had not the strength to express it, but there was an obvious reaction to her.

He choked on air for a moment. “Your name?”

“Akaashi, of their kind,” she said.

He rescinded his effort to observe her. “She will do well for you.”

The king shifted one leg, grunting with effort. He cleared his throat.

“Listen now, Tooru. Tobio.”

The others stepped back from the bed, and Tobio moved closer on the left side.

“The gods—know…I am not without enemies. No man of any greatness is. There will be those who attempt public celebration of my death, and I expect their efforts to be flattened with a firm hand. It will be the first opportunity to assert yourself, to make an example of the heathen lowers who will undoubtedly attempt to break from their rightful place.”

There was pause filled by wheezing.

“You must not pick the useless young men to fill your supporting offices. Choose for experience, not those who will amuse you. It is a mockery of government.” He coughed once. “You are far too patient with yourself. It borders on complacency. You must take an active part in the training of your son, as I did for you. We are not born with the knowledge of how to uphold the dignity of our line. Our significance entitles us to amusements, but you must not neglect to govern. Do not rule over pleasure and forget the power of pain. Tobio…”

He partly shifted his body; his eyes steadied on the younger’s midsection rather than his face.

“Do not become a stranger to your brother. Be of use.”

His bow went unseen, as the old man labored in turning his eyes back to the eldest.

“We have prepared for this. There is no excuse to falter as you take up your new places. As you are, the country will be. I can offer no more guidance than this.”

He began to twist weakly into the depth of his quilts.

“Go, I wish for peace.”

“Yes Father.”

“Yes Father,” the younger echoed.

 

The boy was just dozing off when Tobio came in to him. He sat up quickly and shook himself to attention, weary from the day’s prior events.

“Why are you here so early?” Hinata said.

“Why do you keep such diligent track of me?”

He glared. “What’s going on?”

“My father has been sick for a long time. He believes he is near death.”

“You’re father’s dying?”

He had lurched visibly, and his eyes were wide with attention while his brow stayed low in concentration.

“I suppose it has been the wish of your people since he fell ill. This is good news to you.”

“No…” He leaned against the wall, tilting his head away meekly. “I’m sorry.”

The prince stared hard at him.

“Why do you say this? You do not care for your king, and you do not care for me. Why should you be sorry for his ill health?”

“I’m not sorry for his health, and I don’t like him as a king. But he’s your father. I love my father, and my whole family, and I don’t—wish anyone would have their family die…Even you.”

The boy was looking at the floor and tapping his feet together. Tobio watched him without reserve, trying to read for anything other than sincerity in his manner. Hinata caught his eye once and scowled at the attention as he looked away again.

“I need a breath of air,” the prince said. “Do you wish to go out?”

He looked up, face still passive, but nodded fast.

They sat on the roof as they had before. At the sight of the village Hinata sighed hard. Then he glared at him a little from the corner of his eye; when Tobio had noticed, he stopped. The prince looked down below.

“I know that you have two names,” he said. “You have a family name, and a given name. The second is said to come to your parents in a dream, or so I have been told. What is your given name?”

The prince still looked out, but Hinata’s head had turned with a deep frown at him.

“How do you know that?”

“I heard it from a visitor to our palace, I do not remember who he was. But I remember what he said because I did not believe it. It is impossible for a name to come from a dream.”

The boy did not retort. He was surprised, and touched, in spite of himself. He looked away from him.

“Shoyo. Is my name. It’s Hinata—Shoyo.”

The prince murmured. Hinata turned sharply.

“You think it’s a stupid name?”

“I did not say—”

“I heard you just now under your breath—”

“It confused me, I have never heard anything like it.”

“Just because it’s different doesn’t mean that it’s wrong, and anyway if you’re going to insult me you say it to my face.”

“Enough. You are exciting yourself over nothing. If you would let me speak, all I would say is that it seems to suit you.”

Hinata’s eyes were still narrowed at him, but finally he turned away. He lolled his head onto one shoulder as he looked down at his old home.

“No one calls me by it except for my family,” he said absently.

“I am going to call you by it.” Tobio stood. “Get up now, Shoyo. We are going inside, Shoyo. You need rest. Shoyo.”

“Stop that.”

But then he laughed, a giggle that showed in a tiny flinch of his shoulders as he turned his back to crawl to his feet. He leapt from the edge of the roof, swinging by the tension of his chain down onto the balcony, where he waited for the prince to follow.

They went inside. Upon realizing Tobio was behind him, Hinata jumped and turned in semi-panic to keep him in sight. He sat down quickly on his mat, facing the room. Tobio pretended he had not seen it, and moved away.

 

In the dead of night there came a thumping of hurried feet.

“Tobio-sama. Please wake, Majesty.”

Hinata bolted up to his knees to see that Ennoshita was standing near the end of the bed. The servant gave one glance at him, and his expression confused the boy. The next moment Tobio came from behind the hangings. He saw Ennoshita, then looked quickly at the boy, noting the chains still intact.

“It is Osu, Majesty. You must come.”

He said nothing, but followed when Ennoshita jogged toward the exit. Hinata stared after them.

As they passed through the front chamber Tobio grabbed a thin robe off the changing screen. When they had reached the hall, the servant said:

“Your father has—He has died.”

He gave a frightened glance at him. Tobio merely frowned.

“Of course he has not. You pick a poor subject for jest.”

As they walked on at their furious pace, Ennoshita closed his mouth tightly and looked away.

In his mind the prince continued to deny it, until they arrived at the King’s bedchamber. The hall was crowded with servants and guards, who parted immediately as Ennoshita came through with the prince. Tendou was next to the doorway, humming to himself; Ennoshita stopped at the same spot, and Tobio went in alone. In the room were only his brother, a physician, and his father on the bed. Cold.

The crown prince turned.

“Here you are, Brother.”

Tobio took a few steps, frowning at his sober face, and at the quiet doctor in the corner.

“He has passed now,” said Tooru.

“What?”

His brother frowned.

“He is gone, Tobio.”

He stared at Tooru. Then he looked at the figure on the bed, stepped closer and looked harder. His brother came beside him and rested a hand on his back. Tobio swallowed. The eyelids were limply closed, the chest unnervingly still. The prince turned away and looked firmly at the floor.

“Your eyes grow weary?” said Tooru.

No answer.

“Do you wish to be with him longer?”

He did not move. Tooru turned to the doctor.

“Cover him.”

The doctor reached to the table beside him, picked up a golden tasseled sheet, and unfolded it. Tobio turned to watch him pull the sheet up over the body and tuck it in behind the head.

He watched the physician leave. Then his brother went out quietly. He saw Ennoshita for a moment, before the servant shut the door. Tobio dropped his stare to the floor and sidestepped across the room to a chair. He sat down, leaned his head against the wall, and swallowed hard.

A painful cold was creeping into his chest.

 

When Tobio came, early in the morning, the boy was sitting awake. He looked up from his place but did not otherwise change his small hunched position, and there was an eerie quiet in his lack of vivacity. The prince spoke in monotone.

“The king has died.”

Hinata slowly hugged his pillow to his chest, tucking his chin behind it.

“Sorry,” was the soft murmur.

Tobio could not see through the shadow that hid his face, but after a few moments there were small dark spots on the pillow.

“What do you cry for? I do not understand you. This is your hated king. Why do you use tears on him?”

“It’s sad!” He tossed the pillow aside. “I don’t like people dying. Why don’t you cry, he’s your own father, don’t you care that he’s gone and you won’t speak to him again? Don’t you care that your family’s different?”

Hinata dropped his eyes, and his tone mellowed.

“I don’t care if you cry. I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Tobio looked away to the window.

“The urge…has not come to me yet.”

“Oh. I see.”

Tobio initiated eye contact.

“I must go to help with the funeral arrangements. It will be tonight, with very few guests, and probably very short. My brother is rushing. I suspect he wishes to be King by tomorrow.”

“Tooru-sama will be king.”

He had said it with a thoughtful air; when he caught Tobio’s look his mouth moved into a perfect circle. Their single raised brows mirrored each other. The moment passed.

“I will not have your clothes changed today,” said the prince. “And it is not likely that you will get to go out. They are all very busy.”

The boy nodded. He opened his mouth, but Tobio had already turned, and Hinata silently watched him leave.

 

The prince returned very late in the night. Hinata had just drifted into the beginnings of sleep, so the thump of Tobio’s heels was enough to wake him. He sat up in the shadow of the pillar and looked at the prince, who stood illuminated in the moonlight. Tobio was still and straight, staring beyond the balcony. Hinata watched with big eyes, and after a long minute he leaned forward on his knees, beginning to crawl out.

A sharp clink made him flinch badly and freeze. The prince had slid the silver band off his arm and thrown it to the ground. Hinata shrank back as he proceeded to jerk the medallion from his neck and strip himself of his black robe, until he stood bare-chested in a black skirt. Hinata dove for shelter behind the pillar, to avoid the indecency if it should appear. He did not see Tobio go out onto the balcony, take the crown from his head, and toss it down toward the glittering silver of the moat.

He turned back to face the room and stopped in the doorway, leaning his forearm against it. Breath came in violent huffs from his nose.

Hinata, heart shuddering, edged around the far side of the pillar to peer at his dark silhouette against the moon.

Tobio rested his forehead against the doorframe. He clucked his tongue, pushed himself off, and began a vicious pacing from his bed to the balcony. Hinata stayed well back in the shadows, watching his swinging arms, the hand going up to grab at his hair or his neck, then stalling there without purpose, before he dropped it back to his side. The hard line in his thigh grooved deep with each pounding step. He drug his hand up the side of his face and into his hair, pulling a fistful back from his forehead. It did nothing to alleviate him. He turned sharply, grabbed the end bed curtain and wrenched it from its fastenings. He flung the curtain behind him as loose ringlets pinged to the floor. He kicked one away; it hit the wall near the pillar, and only then did the prince freeze, in his half bent position, trying to see through the dark and locate the presence he had forgotten.

Hinata was not to be seen. He had several moments ago hidden himself fully behind the column. Now his back was pressed to it and his fist was firmly in his mouth as he stifled the hiccups which accompanied the distressed tears running from his eyes.

Tobio turned away from the column. He gnashed his teeth, then shoved aside another curtain and grabbed the shallow bowl of cool wash water. He took it into the front chamber. A minute later Hinata heard the smash.

The boy had sunk down to a crouched position by the time Tobio returned and flopped onto his bed. Hinata made sense of the sound and stood up, wiping his face on his arm. He peeked around the pillar’s edge. When his eyes had adjusted, he watched in disturbed wonder the dark figure, the rise and fall of his chest. The breaths were still quick, aggressive. Alive. Hinata’s eyes stung again at the thought of what the prince had lost.

Tobio turned his head slightly, so that the near half of his face was lit by the moon and visible to the boy. The skin was pale there now, more near to his own. Tobio’s scowl was deep and hard. Even when he swiped away the tear that slid from the corner of his eye, the expression did not altar. Hinata clutched the front of his shirt and leaned his hopeless head against the curve of the cold stone.


	9. Chapter 9

Tobio remained in his bed until well past breakfast time. He had been awake to listen to the boy’s rustling and clinking at dawn, but lacked even the curiosity to peek at him. As it grew lighter and lighter he had expected someone to come in with orders to wake and prepare to attend the ceremony, but no such commotion occurred. Eventually he got up, exiting through the back side of the curtains, and went to the front room to dress himself in everyday wear. When he left his chamber he was immediately met by the sight of Kinoshita, seated next to the doorway. He stood.

“Good morning Majesty. I have a message from Tooru-sama.”

“What is it.”

“You are to meet him at the East Wing tapestry when it is convenient, to discuss outfit coordination for tomorrow’s event.”

“What? Tomorrow?”

Kinoshita shrunk back. “Yes, your brother’s coronation will take place tomorrow evening, at his request.”

“That—is unacceptable.”

He set off, sparing the servant a reply.

Tobio passed the kitchen on his way, stuffed with noisy servants, and another room from which issued a mess of musical instruments. Before he had rounded the final corner he met a servant of Shimizu’s, who he frightened out of her wits when he snatched her long paper away.

“What is this?”

“It’s—the—seating arrangement for the coronation, drawn specifically to Tooru-sama’s wishes.”

He tossed it away and swept past her, into the long hall with the tapestry on one wall and a line of glass tables against the other. They were heavily laden with vases of exploding blooms of yellow. Tooru stood over the only empty table, busying himself with papers. He looked up with already a smile.

“Good afternoon dear one.”

“Our father died and was buried before I could catch breath, and you take an entire day for yourself, having music composed, creating seating arrangements—bringing in flowers? You did not bother to have them changed out for the funeral.”

“There is some crime in that?” said his brother.

“They were dead.”

“And fit perfectly with the rest of the scenery.”

Tobio went blind with rage. He swept a wild hand over the nearest table; the vases shattered against one another and lay in a soaking heap on the rug.

“Really, Tobio. The princess and the slave boy in combination have had a very poor influence on you.”

The younger hissed through his teeth. “He told you, in his last words to us, that this kind of behavior is unacceptable. You dishonor him, and you dishonor all of us.”

“Do not think so much of your honor, Brother. That is always your mistake, and I grow tired of it. It is easiest to control them with fear, therefore needless and worthless to gain their respect.”

“I do not speak of their opinion of us. You are showing no respect for your family, or yourself.”

“You will not succeed in getting a rise from me, Brother, not on this day. But in the future, if you are not more careful of your conduct, you may find yourself shipped off to the north before it pleases you or the princess.”

“On the contrary, nothing would please me more.” Akaashi was marching toward them. “I have come to inform you of my immediate departure. I will be returning home today.”

“I am dearly sorry, Akaashi-san, but that could never be allowed.”

“I ask that you do me the kindness of listening to my logic. This is a trying time for your family as a matter of loss, and a trying time for your kingdom as a matter of adjustment. I have no desire to linger uselessly in the midst of your affairs. I will return at a later time, perhaps with the intention of retrieving my fiancé, if he has not already been granted to me.”

“I forbid your departure,” Tooru said cheerfully. “The two of you are the better half of my family, with my father gone. I will have you at the ceremony or the ceremony will not proceed. And as you were among the most deeply connected to this tragedy, you more than anyone need to enjoy a mood of celebration and pleasure.”

“These are ridiculous lies,” said Tobio. “You are being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable indeed,” said the princess.

“On the contrary, your resistance speaks to a soundly illogical defense of pride. You have lived your whole life in the knowledge that this day would come, Brother. It will not change our positions relative to one another, in the literal sense,” he added. “You, Princess, will have a coronation of your own in the near future, and therefore have no cause for jealousy. Also, you may thank yourselves for ruining the surprise, before I tell you that I have personally taken the time to plan a special event for the pair of you, and your blossoming romance. You will stay, Princess, to honor your host, and you will stay, Tobio, to support your brother. The sole living member of your immediate family, if I need remind you.”

Their combined glares were fearsome, but still, no match for Tooru.

 

Tobio spent the better part of the afternoon and evening hunting down advisors and some of the more distinguished nobles. It was to little avail; most refused to speak openly with him, afraid of being accused of conspiracy against the king. Consequently he found no one who could offer assurance that the situation was in hand. Ukai, the face he most desperately sought, was not seen or heard of by anybody.

When he retired for the night, his unease showed in stiff and hunched shoulders. He had felt for several hours now that he was developing an illness of the stomach. When he came into the room he did not at first give the boy a glance. He stood in the middle of the floor and looked through the balcony at the black sky. Then he turned with suddenness and eyed his companion, filling his thirsty gaze. He huffed something like a sigh.

“How are you?”

Hinata pulled his knees a little tighter to his chest. “I’m fine…”

The prince’s eyes roamed the floor for a few long moments.

“I want to go somewhere.” He looked to Hinata. “Will you come?”

“Where are you going?”

He thought a moment. “The river.”

“I’ll go,” was the quiet answer.

Tobio left the room to order a rope from the servant at the door. Watari brought it in to him.

“Tell Ennoshita that we are going to the river, but no one else is to know. Bring shawls, I do not know whether we need them.”

Watari left, and the prince came over with the rope. Hinata watched his movements carefully. Tobio reached first for the chains, but thought better of it and moved to tie the rope around his waist. The boy was very still as he stood behind him and fastened the knot.

“Do you enjoy boating?” said the prince.

Then he looked up and caught Hinata’s eyes, which were turned back toward him.

“I suppose you have never done it,” Tobio said.

He quickly fixed the end of the rope to his own wrist, then came around to the front of him. He placed one hand on the underside of the shackles, and pressed the other into the imprint, causing the metal to spring apart. Then he turned and walked toward the door, followed by the boy.

“The river is peaceful, because it is simple,” Hinata said. “Is that why you want to go?”

He paused. “I do not know.”

Watari met them outside the prince’s chamber and handed two shawls to his superior. The pair walked in silence through the palace, meeting no one, with Tobio’s thumping heel-to-toe followed by the softest pattering from the boy’s feet. They walked between the giant columns at the front entrance, and heard the guards shift a little once they had passed. As his feet left the stone steps and hit the grass, Tobio felt a small resistance on the rope around his wrist.

“I haven’t been out of the palace since I went into it,” Hinata said.

The prince’s step paused.

“There is a chill,” was all he said, turning to hand the boy a shawl.

Hinata followed him on, over the bridge and left toward the river. Tobio felt his wrist pulled behind him and to the right, and turned to see the boy easing unconsciously in the direction of the village, as his eyes shone in the yellow lights from the nearest buildings. Tobio continued resolutely toward the water.

It was very quiet; the large party boat was tethered to a post on shore, and unlit except by the far-reaching glow of the city. Tobio moved downstream to a group of small rowing boats.

“These belong to you?”

“They are used by the servants,” he said.

He reached down and gripped the end of one boat, to pull it farther up the sandy shore. He moved aside for the boy.

“Keep your steps in the center.”

During the second in which Hinata came forward, Tobio decided that he should offer his hand to help him in. Without hesitation Hinata slapped his own hand down in a high five, then gave two soft but devilish chuckles as he got into the boat. The prince waited for him to crawl to the front. Then he pushed him out into the water, wading slowly up to his knees, before he stepped into the back of the boat, seated himself, and picked up the paddle.

Hinata did not notice that his end raised up from the water because of the prince’s greater weight; he was already huddled on his knees, leaning forward with his forearms against the triangle lip at the front, and looking out at what he could see on this dark night.

There was nothing to draw his attention from the boy, so Tobio kept dull eyes on him, and paddled mechanically. They did not speak or sigh. The reeds of the nearer shore did for them, and Hinata perked up once to turn and listen. Then he lay against his arm and trailed the opposite hand across the surface of the water, as they floated slowly on the current. The shawl hung off his elbows, and the sleeve of his oversized shirt had slipped from his shoulder, so that the prince could see faintly the white glow of the skin. It might have been arousing, if he were in the mood for such a thing. But his body seemed indifferent, and his soul ached in a way he could not define.

After half an hour Tobio stirred up his muscles and began to tilt them in the direction of the near shore. Hinata was staring at the village lights, now less numerous as the night grew late, and did not notice their shift, until the prince said:

“We will walk back. I am tired of sitting.”

The head whipped around.

“Can’t we go a little farther?”

Tobio’s eyes narrowed, but Hinata could not see them well in the dark. He turned back to the front.

“Up there is my part of the river.”

Tobio straightened the boat back out, and the boy turned to him for a moment. Then his eyes were ahead. As they went on, feet by feet, they began to hear faint sounds. Soon it was distinguishable as speech. Then a clear phrase came to their ears.

“But will it be dry by morning?”

Tobio shoved the paddle deep, stalling them.

“We must stop now,” he said.

“All right.”

Hinata still stared ahead as they moved to shore. He thought he could see movement in all the shadows, and his eyes beamed hungrily at it, sucking in the faint yellow from the village. When the boat grounded into the reeds he almost fell out, having leaned so far over the edge in his eagerness. Now he started to step, but felt the tug on his waist and had to stop and wait for Tobio to get to his feet. Then he leapt out, splashing through the shallows into the weeds on the shore. Clean beaches were not maintained in this part of the river, where the poor accessed the water source. The reedy plants grew thick and taller than Hinata’s eye level. He crept forward through them, toward the voices, without thinking of what he was doing. The prince put a hand onto the rope, but did not pull back, only followed at a matched pace. He maintained a crouched position.

“In the weeds, do you hear it?”

Hinata stopped at the voice. He reached out a hand, a slightly shaky one, to thin the mess of weeds between he and the persons. And there came into view a small dull lantern, sitting on the shore, while its owners, two women and one boy, stood up to their ankles in the water, looking a little to the left of where Hinata hid.

“Only a playful wind phantom,” said one of the women.

The three of them went back to work. There were other voices farther down the river, becoming more clear to him as he calmed his tingling senses. Then his breath caught, in an audible huff, when the nearest voices joined in on the chorus of the song, the very familiar song.

“Sleep now, dear river,” he whispered. “Don’t rush and don’t cry.” He leaned forward. “Sleep and grow purer, but don’t forget how we sigh. We people, you river, never lie—”

“What are they doing?”

The whisper froze him. He had not heard the prince’s voice in this form before, and for a moment could not place it. Then he blinked, broken from his trance.

“The washing,” he said.

“In the night?”

“The river is for the nobles’ use during daylight, don’t you know?” He turned to him. “It’s your rule.”

“We are going now.” He put a small pressure on the rope.

“All right.”

But Hinata turned again to the villagers. Then there was a hushed but violent gasp, and the prince tensed when he felt two hands grip around his forearm.

Another boy had joined the group, who were now on shore gathering their things. They spoke to the newcomer, but Hinata did not hear the words. He stared at the thin, light-haired, soft-featured youth, and felt his heart thud painfully up his chest and into his throat.

Tobio was staring hard at the side of his face, reading something undiscernible, but terribly strong.

“Do you know him?”

“Izumi,” Hinata breathed.

“He is a relation of yours?”

“My best friend.”

Then Hinata released his arm. The prince looked one second longer at the eye, a bold flare here in the dark. He found his hand moving without instruction, toward the back of the boy, toward the knot in the rope.

In a sudden flash he had Tobio’s arm wrapped up in his own two, half hiding behind his bicep. The weeds had moved back into place, so Hinata could not see more than a glimpse of his friend as he went by, leaving the river. He stared and still clung to Tobio, who looked down with wide, blank eyes.

Then Hinata let go, and his voice cracked where his eyes had not.

“Just take me back.”

 

There was no sound from either until they reached the guards at the palace. Tobio stopped to speak to them.

“If you are questioned, you did not see us leave or return.”

Hinata had continued to move, and now he remained the leader as they made their way up to the bedchamber. He went across each room and the hall, with no pause until he was directly in front of the familiar pillar. Tobio had already dropped the rope from his own wrist, and bent down to retrieve the shackles. He closed the first in silence, then stopped, observing the spot on the inside of the wrist which had been rubbed red. He frowned at it.

“They are too tight.”

He took hold of his wrist and ran his thumb lightly over the place.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Hinata said.

So Tobio closed the second shackle, clicking them fast into each other. But when it was done, he did not let go.

Hinata looked up and his eyes flinched at the sight of the prince’s aimed at him. He scowled and did not turn away. Tobio’s hand came up, slowly, into the edge of his vision. He watched it, but kept his focus on the blue, the shiny, impenetrable blue.

Fingertips, just half an inch deep, brushed through the side of his hair. The boy lost the scowl but kept the eye contact. His heart was determined not to speed up, but it thumped hard, harder than he had thought possible when the prince’s hand came up in front of him, and he put his thumb to his bottom lip. The lips parted a fraction in surprise. His stare was wider. Tobio’s face did not change as he pulled the thumb down into the groove of his chin.

“You are not fighting,” he said.

The reply was steady.

“Not yet.”

Tobio came in fast and kissed him. At first, he spared no thought for anything except the fact of the lips softened to accept his. There was no resistance. So he turned, heating the angle, and opened his mind.

Never had he suffocated in this way, feeling threatened, in danger, on edge, but wanting to cling to the feeling until death ripped it from him. His mouth moved on its own, not much, with ease against the other. A wetness swept over his bottom lip, and the waves of heat from their faces crashed together in the space between them. A nerve pinched in his mind as he struggled to acknowledge the pleasure; the pressure built and built as he labored to take hold, comprehend—

He pulled back. The cloud of passion blew away instantly and he looked with clear eyes for the boy’s reaction. Hinata’s lids came up, but he was unfocused, taking a little to recover. Then the brows furrowed and he turned his head to the side, with a look of annoyance which Tobio somehow knew was not directed at him.

Hinata silently cursed his weakness. Then he put his hands on the prince’s chest and pushed him back.

Tobio straightened, and the burn of his stooped muscles finally reached his senses. He took a carefully quieted breath as he walked away.

Hinata watched him leaving. Leaving him alone.

The prince had not in recent days done anything which made him extremely uncomfortable, and on the whole was not much like he had expected him to be. He clenched his fists, spun on his heel and pressed his forehead to the wall.

Certain areas of his body had gotten very hot at the touch, and as he thought of it now he only grew hotter, with shame. There immediately came to mind contradictions to the pleasure; he recalled the hurtful things the prince had spat at him in moments of anger, and how he had raged last night in anguish over his father. But, to the boy’s terror, his mind suddenly converted the aggression into more heat, heat equivalent to the pounding and violent tingling and unbearable waves that still haunted his skin. He gasped against the wall, and his guts reeled with guilt.

Meanwhile, the prince had wandered over to the balcony and now leaned in the doorway, looking at the starts in the sky. What lingered in his senses was the taste. He felt it had been lifted from the boy and stuck to his own lips like a powder, and he dared not wipe it away.

But he would not fight it when it faded. He must let go now, he knew, before the hold grew too deep in him, before he suffered lasting consequences of this life event, and before he made some drastic alteration to the boy.

He thought of Akaashi. On a sooner day than later, he would hold her in all her beauty, and kiss the perfection of her lip, touch the perfection of her cheek. That was his destiny. The boy had come in one moment, and would go the next, if he so chose to have it this way. He reasoned that he would forget, after a time, and that time would be shorter if he stopped now. If he stopped now, he would never know what he had missed.

The prince broke their silence.

“I suppose that is all the willingness I can expect from you.”

Hinata turned his head, but did not leave the wall.

“You do not belong here, and keeping you forever would not change that. I release you.”

“What?” the boy breathed out. He was not heard.

“But you will have to wait until tomorrow. When everyone is busy with the coronation it will be easy to escape, and I may make simple excuse of your not being watched. But there is a condition. You must tell your people that you escaped, not that you were released. No one is ever to know that I allowed it.”

As he turned he only glanced at the boy, who was staring with his jaw dropped. Tobio made for the four-poster.

“You’re telling the truth?”

He glanced again. “Yes.”

There were several labored breaths from Hinata, before he said:

“Swear it. Swear to the gods you will release me.”

The prince turned in some irritation. “I swear to each and every god. I release you.”

“Then—I—You...” His fists curled and uncurled, and he twisted on the spot as he pressed one foot onto the other. “Is there something—something else…you—Mm…What—can I—do…”

He shuffled around in a complete circle, to Tobio’s bewilderment.

“Fine then,” came the soft voice. “You can have what you want.”

Tobio watched him moving toward his mat. The redhead spoke again.

“But not now. Tomorrow, before I leave. I promise.”

The prince turned fully, staring. “Tomorrow…”

Hinata looked away from his clueless face and grumbled.

“Don’t make me say it.”

Tobio had only a moment to blink; the boy’s face came up sharply and he spoke louder than he had all day.

“That doesn’t mean I’ll do whatever you want. I definitely won’t, I’m having a say in things, and I’m definitely choosing what I want to wear.”

A pause.

“I will—send for a variety,” Tobio said.

“And I don’t need anyone’s help.” Without mercy to his backside he dropped onto the mat. “And you swore to the gods, so if you don’t let me go, one of them will strike you down.”

Then he lay on his side. Tobio stared at his back. The more the prince thought, the stonier grew his brow.

“You—are lying.”

He began to turn away, but Hinata had immediately sat up.

“I don’t lie! I made a promise and I _will_ keep it. The least you can do is believe me.”

Tobio looked hard at him. There was nervous, anxious fire in the brown eyes, different than ever before, though just as aweing. He took his time, insistent on knowing what they said now. But he could not see there any logical reason for the offer. And despite having just rationalized that it was best to go on without the knowledge of what he had given up, he had no power to refuse. He was not that noble.

Hinata moped his shoulder against the wall and pouted at the floor. After some silence, in which Tobio did not attempt to classify the feelings which rushed through him, he spoke:

“Very well.”

He watched the boy for a half minute longer. Then he walked to his bed. When he was about to draw the curtains behind him, Hinata piped up again.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Tobio froze. No one had ever put the simple question to him before. He made a genuine thought.

“It is—blue.”

Hinata laughed, a few chuckles. The prince wanted to turn and look, but could not in his confusion, and his breathlessness.

“I thought so,” the boy said. “You’re too easy, Osu.”

 

For an unfathomable reason Tobio slept very well. But he did wake early, and as he lay within the dark square of the curtained area, looking up at the ceiling lit with sunrise, there was an uneasiness in his thoughts which he could not right away place.

He checked once to see that the boy was still there, and quickly closed the curtain when he had seen the orange. He considered the feelings again, and recognized remnants of those from last night, during their boat ride, which had fled him for a time. He looked around his four-poster and it hit him sharply in the gut, the fact that his father had died. The next thought followed with an even worse attack to his organs.

Today would be his brother’s coronation.

As he left the room he tried not to look in the boy’s direction, but could not help himself from one glance. It was only a bundle of fabric which he saw, the stripes of the shirt, the brown of the throw, and the sandy knit of the shawl that still hugged him tightly.

By the late morning the prince felt he had paced the entire palace, which was busy with servants but no one else. He went outside for a change of scenery, but confined himself to walking the line of the moat, not wishing to stray too far from the action. He had gone three rapid quarters of a lap when he met Akaashi, who he did not notice until she was feet from him and speaking.

“Tobio-san. Are you enjoying your walk?”

“Ah—Akaashi-san.” He bowed. “I did not know you were out.”

He noticed Kenma behind her, looking down and away as usual.

“Do you have an aversion to company at the moment?”

“I—do not. No.”

“Then I will join you.”

He nodded. Akaashi spun herself around and waited for him to come up beside her, then matched his pace.

“It is a critical time for your family,” she said. “Everything will change, after today.”

“What? What do you mean?”

How could she possibly know? Did her power to read him have no limits? His face was alarmed, and she frowned deeply at it.

“Your brother will assume the throne.”

“Oh, yes. Yes.”

She frowned again, but he was no longer looking at her.

“You are nervous?”

“I—I suppose.”

“I wonder what it makes you think of,” she said. “Does it motivate you to stay as long as possible, or increase your desire leave?”

Only the silence after her question went noticed by him.

“I am sorry, I—I did not understand the question.”

“It is not worth repeating.”

They had completed Tobio’s lap by reaching the front entrance. The princess broke from his side and moved toward the steps.

“I will leave you for now.”

“Goodbye.”

She went inside, brow still furrowed as she analyzed the prince’s behavior. Around a corner she was met by servants carrying a rack of hanging garments, immediately eye-catching due to their bright color and glitzy detail.

“Stop, you there. A moment.”

The servants flinched and Narita nearly lost his hold on one end of the pole.

“Where are these being taken?” Akaashi said.

“Th—They are for the slave, Majesty,” said Kinoshita. “A—They are for Tobio-sama’s slave.”

“Ah.”

Her eyes were narrowed and her mind obviously hard at work. By the time she focused back on them, the two servants were stooped in bows.

“Please, forgive us, Majesty,” said Kinoshita. “We did not mean to offend, by having the garments out in the open, as if to remind you of the fact of—And please, we—We beg you, forgive us if it caused you to suspect that we would presume to bring you suggestions of clothing, or that the princes would mean to insult you by dressing you to their own taste. We—”

“There has been no offense, given or taken,” she said. “But I will follow you to the prince’s chambers.”

They glanced at each other, then nodded in bows.

 

There were already two full racks of clothing inside Prince Tobio’s bedchamber, which Hinata, at the end of his chain, wandered in front of, eyeing the dizzying array of colors.

He was not really seeing them; since he awoke in the early afternoon from a heavy night’s sleep, his thoughts had been obsessively on the two promises. He jumped maddeningly between them from one minute to the next. First there was a paradoxically light pressure high in his chest, as he thought of home and running in freedom, and seeing his family once more. Then the pressured expanded and sunk deep, aching just above his stomach, as he considered the impulsiveness with which he had bound himself to an immoral and potentially dangerous agreement. The prince had freed him from his powerless state, only for Hinata to willingly enter back into it, by subjecting himself to the prince’s physical wishes, whatever they might be. He was certainly anxious, but yet, and this was the truly maddening part, he could not tell whether he felt genuine regret.

He was shocked momentarily by the arrival of Kinoshita and Narita with a third bunch of garments. And after this, he was surprised so that it stripped him cleanly of all other thought. The princess had entered the room.

She came to him directly, but waited to speak until they had set down the pole.

“I see. From the combination of the prince’s strange demeanor and the meeting with his servants, I suspected that this day is more to Tobio-san than the event of his brother’s crowning. Here you are preparing yourself.”

The redhead blinked rapidly, and his jaw worked furiously but without effect. He took several stuttering steps in place.

“A—Princess—Majesty—I—I—I’m sorry!”

He jerked into a violent bow.

“I made a promise to the prince, but I didn’t think of all the consequences. It was wrong of me to promise it when my—my cooperation will get in the way of your marriage. I wasn’t thinking of you when I promised it, I was only thinking of myself. I’m sorry.” He straightened up, and his face was red with emotion. “What do I do?”

“This concern for myself is confusing, given your position. I do not understand what you ask,” she said.

“Well I don’t want your feelings to be hurt,” he almost cried. “But I swore to honor my promise to Osu. I forgot that he’s engaged. It would be a terrible thing to do to you, in my culture we would never behave that way. I made the wrong choice, I’m sorry! Will you—I mean could you ask him to let me g—”

He pressed the back of one hand to his mouth. She was looking evenly at him, and spoke in a soft tone.

“Did you truly have a choice? Small one.”

Hinata dropped his hands, but he was silent, holding his mouth shut tight as his mind whirled. He could not answer in the positive because he was forbidden from telling her of his release. While he stared, she walked across his path to access the clothing. She reached with her hand, pulled out a garment, and began examining it with an expert eye.

“I will help you to decide what looks best and is appropriate,” she said.

“A—Ha—You—will help?”

“Do you deny that you are in need of assistance?”

The expression of awe grew on his face, and he bounced up to her, less than a foot away.

“You are going to help me, Princess?”

Then he leapt back, embarrassed and a little afraid. He bowed.

“I’m sorry, A—A—”

“Akaashi is my name.”

“Akaashi-sama.”

He smiled warmly at it, which pleased her on the inside, though she kept it from her face. Hinata bowed stout and proper.

“Thank you, Akaashi-sama.”

She turned and began to riffle through the garments. “Now then. It is a basic truth that one always appears to the most advantage when one is comfortable.”

With that, she began to pull pieces from the racks and toss them aside. The servants watched in amazement. Hinata stood at her shoulder.

“Tobio-sama says that comfort does not matter because the clothes will be—removed.”

“Tobio-san is not in the position of temptress, and therefore not qualified to advise on these matters. Discomfort disrupts confidence, which you must have in order to be alluring.”

“Ohh, I see.”

She tossed one last piece onto the pile. “There.” Then she stood with her lean arms folded, surveying the remaining garments. Hinata ventured:

“I don’t hate that one, very much.”

“Your preference does not extend far in this situation. We are not considering your taste, but his.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Then I may as well be naked when he comes.”

She was enjoying his lively expressions, but again kept the recognition from her face.

“Given his age and character, it is likely that Tobio does not have a great understanding of his own desires. Perhaps his servants can provide insight.”

“Um…” Kinoshita glanced at his silent fellow. “That is a better question for Ennoshita-san…”

“He always chooses things he knows I won’t like,” said Hinata. “We don’t show skin, and he chose things that were short here, or that were all bare in the back—”

“To be expected,” she murmured. “Choosing under the influence of what he has been taught by cultural norms. We must take the opportunity to expand the prince’s mind,” she said to the room at large. “Another simple rule is that the less Tobio sees, the more he will want.” She pulled out a smooth, sheened cropped top. “Is your naval an area of confidence, or lack thereof?”

He did not hesitate to work the long shirt up over his hips, revealing his stocky legs and a mildly toned midsection. Akaashi handed the top to Kenma and turned back to the rack.

“Color, for you, is very important. The balance of your hair and skin tone is delicate. The gold will do well, and…”

“Osu’s favorite color is blue,” said Hinata.

“How do you know this?”

“I asked him.”

She looked in no small interest at him, but he busied himself with the clothes.

“With your midriff exposed it is unnecessary to leave the legs uncovered. Something long, fluid, like—this, perhaps—”

But she frowned at her choice, and looked immediately to Kenma. Hinata turned and flinched, not aware of her presence until now.

“What do you say?” Akaashi urged.

A softish, low voice issued from the small hunched figure.

“He is too short to maintain the elegance of a long skirt as you do.”

“Well I—I’m not a beautiful woman like the princess…I don’t know why Osu would want to have me—”

“He has odd proportions. Standard cuts turn into brutalized mistakes on his body.”

Hinata swelled his chest for the retort. “Oi—”

Akaashi put out her hand and his words jumbled into a ball inside his throat. Kenma spoke again.

“But that is his advantage. He can wear what most cannot, because the natural strength of his body gives the confident shape which bolder pieces require.”

Then the tiny woman looked directly at him, through slivered pupils, and gave a miniscule half-smile. After a moment, Hinata was beaming at her.

“Yes…” Akaashi’s hand moved down to the left, and she pulled away with more gold. “This, if it is doubled in the front for coverage, and then…”

“What about the—blue.”

She held out a shockingly small undergarment.

“It will only show when your back is turned,” she said. “Can you wear it with poise?”

“Ahh…Yes. But—I don’t understand—Why would you help me?”

His head was tilted to the side, and he looked up shyly through his bangs.

“I accept our differences in culture,” Akaashi said. “I have told the prince that while he is unmarried he may do as he pleases. Besides, it is clear that his tact needs sharpening, before he has any dealings with his wife. I am enlisting your help in this matter.”

“I’ll help you, but how do I do it?”

“Be what you are, that is all. I expect that Tobio-san will not find it so easy as he first thought, to exercise his will, when he sees what we have found for you.”

Hinata tried to bite back his smile, but when the firm corner of the princess’s mouth curled up in proud pleasure at him, the full brunt of the boy’s grin burst forth, for the first time within the palace walls. And he laughed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn't going to be what most of you were hoping for. Just remember it's okay to cry.

On this the twelfth day of his captivity, Hinata sat drumming his heels against the floor. He was determined not to move, not to soil himself in any way after he had been given his bath. But two whole hours in this position had been almost unbearable, and he knew it would not be long now, so he hopped to his feet and began to pace.

It would not be long now.

He wore the golden cropped shirt, which was fitted but not skin-tight, and rather comfortable for that. The sleeves that fell over his shoulders were pleated gauze of a matching color. A thin, shimmering material, also gold, wrapped around his waist like a belt; a double layer hung in the front, less than a foot wide, so that the outer edge of his thighs showed. At his back side the thin cloth had not been doubled, and through it one could see plainly the outline and blue color of the thong, the undermost garment. The cloth fell to his heels in the back, and billowed out a little as he turned abruptly to change his direction.

Hinata was concentrating on his feet and failed to hear the entrance of a second person. His eye did not catch movement until the visitor was even with the prince’s bed, feet from him. He jerked his head up and let out a short bark of a scream.

Satori smiled with lazy eyes, swaying on the spot with his hands behind him.

“I have come for you, Chibi, specially for you.”

“W—What? Keep away from me.”

He shook his head, smirk wobbling. “Osu’s orders must be obeyed. You do not receive your proper use here. I must take you somewhere you will.”

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m staying right here,” said Hinata.

“No no no, you must come. Or my master will be angry with me.”

He opened his hands behind him, dropping a rope and a rolled cloth. Hinata shot over to the wall. When Satori did not hesitate to follow the boy dashed behind the pillar.

The servant came from the left and Hinata ran around the other side. But Satori slammed a deceivingly thin hand against the chain, completely stopping its rotation and jerking Hinata to a standstill. The boy turned and saw the ghoulish face peek around the column. He leaned with all his weight against the chain. Satori smiled his same smile, while behind the pillar his long fingers played with the hook. It released suddenly and Hinata went sprawling onto his back. He used his momentum and continued the roll over to his knees, then started up to flee the room. The servant’s hand was both strong and quick, and as the chain came around the pillar he scooped it up, pulled back, and snapped the end like a whip. The last few links thumped sickeningly between Hinata’s shoulder blades and he cried out as he fell to the floor.

He lay stunned by the pain, and could not manage to resist as the rope was wound around his body, trapping his arms to his sides. Then the cloth passed over his eyes, eliciting a panicked squeak, which was stifled when the cloth exited his line of vision and settled instead at his mouth.

“Tobi-sama has spoiled you. With all the magical nights on the roof, delightful baths under the sun…” He secured the gag. “Chibi is treated so well he does not even want to go home.”

Hinata made muffled protest.

Satori stood, picked up the end of the chain, and proceeded to drag him toward the exit. Hinata fought, kicking his legs and thrashing as best he could, but he was at a heavy disadvantage. Even though he hooked his knees around every passing corner, and twice struggled to his feet in attempts to charge and tackle Satori, the servant still let out a high sigh of triumph when he had brought him to the final door. He turned and picked Hinata up around the middle. The boy kicked furiously but was still forced through a pair of doors and into a dully-lit and darkly decorated chamber. It was smaller than any room he had previously seen in the palace. Hinata paused for a fraction of a moment in his struggle, upon noticing a young man at the back wall, seated on the floor behind the bed.

Satori set him down and immediately shoved him in the back with his foot. While Hinata was on his stomach the end of the chain thudded once again between his shoulders, and he gave a two-toned yelp. During the time he took to recover Satori was fastening the chain to a peg in the side wall. He whipped off the gag before tiptoeing away.

Hinata heard the creak of the door and turned to see the servant making his exit.

“You get back here, you take me back right now! Now!”

The door shut on the crinkled, beading eyes. Hinata took two steps with his knees then jerked against the tightness of the chain. With a jolt he remembered that he was not alone, and his head flew around to look at the person across from him. The fellow prisoner was looking back at Hinata with obvious interest.

“Hello,” said the boy.

The first thing he observed was that the man seemed big, even as he sat in a balled position and was half hidden by the corner of the bed. His skin looked light brown, not white, in this lighting, and he had black hair and eyes, which shone in a way that did not make Hinata afraid.

“You are Osu’s slave?”

“And you are his brother’s,” said the man. “I heard how you were chosen, and you were described to me in detail. Tooru-san insists on speaking to me. I do not think anyone else will listen to him.”

The boy cocked his head in interest. “I’m Hinata Shoyo.”

“I am sorry you share my fate, Hinata.”

“What’s your name?”

“Iwaizumi.”

Hinata sat back on his legs and let his shoulders relax.

“How did you get here Iwa-san?”

His brow, already dark, moved into a formidable storm.

“It is my punishment. From the gods. Of course I believe I have suffered enough, but it never ends.”

“What do you have to be punished for?”

“I made a wrong decision, long ago when I was young, and it must haunt me.”

“What happened?” Hinata shuffled closer on his knees. “What decision?”

“I have never told that story. I see only the prince, so there has never been anyone to hear it. But I do not know if it is right to tell you. It is a painful story, and you are already in a situation of pain.”

Hinata was staring with parted lips. “Tell the story. Please.”

Iwaizumi held his eyes, then looked away, and leaned his wide back against the wall.

“I was born in the city. My family comes from one of the common villages, like you.”

“You’re common class?”

“Yes. My father was a merchant, always at sea, and when I was old enough he invited me to go with him.”

“Is your father a good man?”

He nodded. “Strong. Patient to a fault. But he is dead now. On our trip we were attacked by the northern country and the ship was wrecked.” He looked at Hinata’s wide eyes. “I was the only one who lived.”

“Oh…”

“The northerners showed mercy because I was young, and brought me onto their ship and took me to their country. I was in mourning and did not speak to any of them. When we reached land they left me at a small house on the seaside, where an older couple took me in to raise me. They had a daughter who was grown and came to visit with her children. And they had another daughter, two years younger than me. At first I was afraid of her, because she was perfect. More beautiful, more intelligent, more kind than possible.”

Hinata awed deep in his throat.

“We became friends, as we did chores and swam and pursued our studies together, and talked for hours every night. And I started to love her. But in the second year she began to go away often, sometimes for two full weeks. I did not ask where she went, and she and her parents did not talk about it. But as I saw less of her, I loved her more, and it seemed that she was happy to see me when she returned. And when I was only sixteen, and she was still fourteen, we made a promise and became secretly engaged.”

The boy nodded eagerly. Iwaizumi swallowed, and Hinata was shocked, as his voice had never wavered. But his eyes were weak now.

“She seemed nervous, before and after the engagement, but I did not know why. She had always been strong and independent, so I decided that it would be fine to leave her, because I wanted to go home. My mother and my sister did not know that I was alive, and I wanted to bring them comfort, as well as receive my family’s blessing before I married. My adopted family had paid me what they could afford for my help maintaining the property and the lighthouse, and I used the money to buy a place on a ship headed to our country. But I came at the wrong time.”

“No,” he almost cried.

“I reached my old house, and saw my mother and sister. In the evening we went out to visit neighbors, but instead we met soldiers, running the streets in chariots. My mother and I stood in front of my sister to hide her. They came as a group to grab me, and took me to the dungeon. The prince selected me. I told him that I was engaged and must go back to the north. I begged, and he said he would release me after one night. But I have been here ever since.”

“How long have you been here?”

Iwaizumi looked gravely at him.

“Four years.”

His jaw dropped.

“I am serving my penance, for my choice to leave her. It was a selfish choice, to want the love of others when I already had the love of one. That is what I believe.”

“That can’t be—That—You didn’t do anything wrong, so—” He fell silent. When he met the young man’s eyes and saw that they were on him, the young face finally relented, and showed not only its true age, but its terror, and vulnerability.

“What—What will Osu do to me?”

“I—” He shook his head. “I have only one piece of advice to offer. You must keep yourself strong. When they give you food, eat it. When they take you for exercise, running and lifting, do it. It is the only way to keep them from breaking you.”

The redhead shrunk back a little now and hunched his shoulders to keep himself from shivering.

“Is he so bad as everyone says? The servants…Are you afraid of him? Iwaizumi-san.”

“I—”

The door opened, and with the draft blew in a death-like silence.

Their new king, Tooru himself, stepped inside, turned immediately to shut and lock the door, then hung the large key on the wall. Now he spun toward them, and Hinata saw for the first time the threateningly lean and graceful figure, the relaxed floof of brown hair, and the winningest smile that could ever have existed. Tooru was looking right at him, with light brown, lightly laughing, but heavily determined eyes.

“We have a new guest, to celebrate this great occasion with us,” he said grandly. “How kind of you to welcome him, Iwa-chan. And how stunning you look, for a chibi. In fact—Ahh.” He tilted his head and pouted his lip in mock pity. “Tonight—was to be the special night. That is why you look so ravishing. Indeed.”

He reached up to remove the thickly jeweled crown from his head, and set it on a round tabletop, without looking away from the boy.

“But Tobio should know that he would pay the consequence for his hesitation. I have always made sure of that.”

The king pulled off his cape, an obscenely white velvet with golden rope-like trim, and tossed it effortlessly into a corner.

“Now then, Chibi-chan. I brought you here because I am in need of a little—freshening, shall we say. That is probably why my bara was so friendly with you. Your presence is his relief. And on that note I must say, Iwa-chan, the tale as a whole is quite a touching one.”

Both pairs of watching eyes grew wider.

“If you had made that big a show of it on our first night together, I might have let you go. But now it does you no good, because I am far too attached to you.” He turned back to Hinata. His smile had yet to waver. “Tell me, little one, have you fallen in love with my brother? That is what he waits for, you know. I have tried to tell him, over and over, how ridiculous it is. Your kind are not worth that. However, I have always believed that each of you is enough for one good thrill.”

Hinata had been enveloped in quaking fear, all the way down to his knees. But at the mention of Tobio it disappeared for one instant, and he said with conviction:

“I would never love you. You don’t deserve it.”

His jaw dropped, though not the smile, and his eyes took on a beaming light. “How delightfully fun you are! A perfect little monster.”

“Tooru.”

The king turned at Iwaizumi’s deadly serious voice, with a raised brow.

“Do not touch him. If you are a better king than those before you, do not touch him.”

The boy was looking fast between them. Tooru’s smile returned.

“Always posing a challenge. But have I ever taken your bait, Iwa-chan? So very sorry to be a disappointment to you on my first night as ruler.”

Then he began to walk toward Hinata. The boy scrambled to his feet.

“A—Please.”

Iwaizumi’s voice stopped him again.

“I will do anything. Anything you want.”

“Ah—” He looked to Hinata, then back at the young man. “Hmm. A willing Iwa-chan is tempting…But unfortunately, you are not that good an actor. You would never convince me that you are truly willing. Tonight another has what I want, and you should be grateful for that in silence.”

He moved again. Hinata fled to the wall and pressed himself against it. Tooru reached out a sure hand to the place where the chain was attached to the peg. There was a sharp clang of metal as Iwaizumi lunged against his own bonds.

“No. Tooru,” he warned.

“Stop your distractions, Iwa-chan.”

As he began to unhook the chain there was a powerful shout from the boy, that startled the king before he had time to conceal it.

“I won’t! I won’t do it!”

“Yes, I know,” said Tooru. “But unlike my dear brother, I do not—require—your cooperation.”

As Hinata looked at the glittering eyes, his own melted with terror. Iwaizumi lunged again.

“Tooru. Osu.”

The king’s head turned quickly, and just as quickly back to the boy. And he said:

“Yes. I am your Osu.”

Hinata began to howl. “Nooo. Nooooo—”

Tooru pulled on the chain. The boy fought it.

“Stop,” Iwaizumi shouted.

Over the clanging of the two chains, over both voices, and over his own grunts of exertion, the king called:

“You are starting to excite me!”

Hinata dug his heels against the rug and for a moment succeeded in stopping his progress toward the king. But then like lightning Tooru plucked a whip from the wall and had the end curling expertly around his neck. Before the boy could protest he was jerked forward against the end of the bed. There was a racket as Iwaizumi lunged and was denied by the chains. He lay still, sputtering in pain, as the king lifted the writhing Hinata onto the bed. The boy’s hands were still shackled and arms still tied; all the king had to do was lean his forearm into the small of his back to hold him there. He pressed a hand down against his neck, as the redhead squirmed like a caught fish.

Then the king laughed. Burning chills shot up on Hinata’s skin; he struggled harder, and a high, weak whimper of panic escaped him. Tooru leaned near, and as his long fingers stroked through the bottom of the orange hair, he murmured:

“Tobio could not handle you as you are. I must teach you to perform, and once you are properly broken in you may return to him. That is, if I do not enjoy you too much.”

The king’s hot breath moved from his ear down his cheek. Hinata screamed, but the room was entombed deep within the palace. No one on the outside could hear him.

 

Tobio had, not in good faith but by force, attended the capstone event planned for he and the princess. They had dined as a pair on the second grand riverboat, accompanied only by servants and a troop of scantily clad dancers, who had been seized from their home island and imported for the occasion. The one on one was recorded, in his mind at least, as the worst of all their interactions, as the prince was far too distracted to make his usual effort at a barely competent social companion, and as the entertainment was not to either’s taste.

But the mortification was to be saved for another day; all thought of the near past vanished, as he walked with great speed through the palace and Kinoshita jogged along in his attempt to keep at his side.

Before they had reached the chamber door Tobio was giving his instructions.

“Ignore whatever you hear. Do not come in, let no one else, and even if they enter the hall they are to be chased off.”

“Yes Majesty.”

He entered the front room. The moment the door had been closed behind him, he stalled his pace. The blue eyes were full to the brim with a wild mixture, which maintained its density even as they roamed the room aimlessly. He settled his gaze on his feet and busied his hands with straightening the dark blue toga.

It was in all honesty not a matter of how he looked. He needed a moment to gather himself, to cool his head, even if that cool was only to last a minute. There was far too much time in a day, and far too many things had been thought; he needed to clear himself of them as best he could, and for one silent moment he thanked the gods the time for thinking was finally over. Now he turned and moved to the hall. The toga, which cut above his knees, had a slit in each side, revealing a powerful convergence of thigh and buttock muscle as he walked.

He made his entrance with no pretense of inattention. His eyes were up and prepared to immediately pin down the pulsating ball of orange energy. But when they did not find what they had expected to, he felt the first reaction violently in his stomach.

The pillar was empty. There was no chain.

He tore across the room, even as the truth cramped in his chest, that if there was no chain there would be no boy either. He hit the wall and looked down into the space behind the column. It was empty. He ran to the bed and whipped back the curtains. There was no one.

“Assistance at once!”

Kinoshita came running, but the prince was moving equally fast and cut him off in the hall.

“The boy is missing. Get me Ennoshita _now_ ,” he thundered. “Tell every guard, he is to be found at any cost.”

Tobio returned to the inner chamber and proceeded to reduce it to ruins. He tore down every curtain, overturned every table, searched both balconies and the roof. This was all done in the mere minutes it took for Ennoshita to appear. The prince charged him fast, and the servant’s body tensed in defense but he did not step back.

“Did you free him?” he demanded. “I know you pity his fate as he is one of your own. Did you set him free? Did one of the others? You will know of it, if they have.”

“We—have no knowledge of his disappearance,” said Ennoshita. “I am ashamed to say that I thought of it, often, of freeing him. But I was too afraid of the consequences to myself should it be found out. I did not release him.”

“Another could have done so behind your back, moved to pity by his innocent pleading—”

“No. I kept careful role, by your brother’s command. They were all accounted for at the celebration. Kinoshita was the first and only to leave, with you.”

“Then where is he? He was to be released tonight but _not before my orders_.”

The servant gaped in surprised, but he took no notice and began to pace.

“The princess can have nothing to do with it, she and her servant were at my side throughout the evening. Shimizu would not interfere. That leaves the red demon, who had a suspicious period of absence—and his king.” He turned sharply. “You go question the guards. I will deal with Satori myself.”

 

Hinata was curled in a ball, on his knees on the bed. His breathing was loud and uneven, and he could not see the sheets which he stared at. Neither could he feel the knuckles stroking his cheek.

“Do not shake so, Chibi-chan.”

Then the king removed himself from the bed, walking over to a screen and wrapping himself in a thin robe of scarlet.

“You did as well as I expected.” Tooru took the key off its hook. “Now you may have your rest, and Iwa-chan his, and I mine. Then we will return you to Tobio, yes?” He opened the door. “A pity though that he missed all the fun. But I can only do so much for him. Goodnight, my pets.”

He locked them inside.

Iwaizumi’s forehead, hands and knees were pressed to the wall; he finally moved from this position, turning to look at the mess of the bed, and the boy hunched there.

Hinata was still.

The young man opened his mouth, but had no words. There was a tiny hiccup from the boy, and Iwaizumi crawled closer to the bed, squinting. Then his jaw went slack as he watched the bare body, which now seemed to have no owner, sliding backwards, edging toward the bottom. The boy’s knees eased over the end and down to the ground; the rest of his weight followed and settled there on top. He sat, clutching the sheets in his fists, looking without a blink.

He sniffed through his nose. Then the red head turned, and the chest copied, and after an eternal moment he began to crawl across the stone floor, toward Iwaizumi. His face stayed down and his eyes still did not blink. Iwaizumi could not fathom any word or sound; he did not move from where he knelt, but as the boy drew closer he slowly put out his chained hands.

Hinata stopped in front of him, swaying just a little on his knees. He did not look up. In silence, he picked up his small hand and placed it on the imprint over Iwaizumi’s shackles. Then he leaned forward, moving his weight into it. The shackles fell open. The firm meatiness of the calloused wrists had been mangled, and the skin was crusted with dark blood, from attempts to break loose.

In the next moment the boy sagged heavy onto his legs and passed out cold against Iwaizumi’s chest.

Suddenly the young man’s breath was coming in rapid huffs. He held the boy by the shoulders and stood up, then lifted him in an embrace and brought him to the bed. His arms worked furiously to wrap him in a sheet. Then he left him and went to the nearest decorative table, picked it up, and smacked the legs against the floor, snapping them off clean. He ran at the door, making a great thrust into the wood strip near the lock.

The lock snapped and the door flew open, hammering against the outside wall. Iwaizumi dropped the table and ran back to the bed. He picked up the bundled boy, adjusting so that the limp head rested in the crook of his arm. Then he fled the room.

With the boy’s dead weight he could not manage to run, but he sped as fast as he could through the dark halls. There were many familiar landmarks and he did not hesitate more than once in his direction; he knew the palace fairly well after all these years. There was no sound except Iwaizumi’s own, and they met no trouble until they had been on the move for several minutes, and now before him lay a choice of the black hall to the right or the lit one to the left. He did not want to go into the more high-traffic area, but he knew by his sense of direction that the lit way would take him nearer to the front exit.

He launched himself forward and rounded the left corner, only to stutter to a dead halt. There, feet in front of him, was the young prince.

Iwaizumi’s face set almost even before it showed surprise; he was ready to deal with this obstacle, at whatever cost. It was the prince who spent a long time reacting. First he looked at Iwaizumi, eyes narrowed to recognize his face in the dim torchlight. But it took less than an instant to know the shock of orange hair, and then there was no controlling his utter astonishment. His bugging eyes stared for two, three, four full seconds. Some small noise fell from his open mouth. Only when Iwaizumi shifted the boy’s weight in his arms did Tobio’s eyes stir, and come back to his.

The slave gave a barely audible cough as he cleared his throat.

“Your brother.” His mind stalled, and he mumbled it again. “Your brother.”

Flames heated behind the prince’s eyes, rolling and tumbling with danger as his chest swelled indignantly. But then the eyes hardened, and glittered.

“Give him to me.”

Iwaizumi took immediate steps back and tightened his arms around the boy.

“Turn him over to me,” Tobio said, “And I will have the best physicians attend to him. No one will come near him. And without him you will move fast enough to escape. So leave him and go.”

As Iwaizumi looked at him it was impossible to deny, even with all the strength of this young man’s body, and the pride of his chiseled face, that the welling in the brown eyes was tears.

“I will care for him,” the prince insisted.

The slave’s legs wobbled under him, and he quickly knelt before he could fall. He stared at the prince as he turned Hinata, bringing the body against his chest and holding the red head into his shoulder. Iwaizumi looked down before the tears spilled. Then he huffed, and spoke to the floor.

“You do not understand. You did not see, you do not understand.”

During the pause the prince swallowed. Iwaizumi petted the matted hair on the back of the boy’s head, and his large arm cradled him around the waist.

“You don’t know how brave…how strong this one is. Innocent. And yet he’s the victim of this—this—sin…Only because he was not born to power.” He looked up, face aflame. “Tell me—how I can justify—giving him over to another one of you.”

The prince was wide-eyed.

But then his brow firmed again. He stretched out his arms, with power, with absolute belief in his authority.

“Give Shoyo to me,” he said.

Iwaizumi put his head down. There was a heavy breath which visibly sunk his shoulders and hollowed his chest. Then he moved Hinata back into the bridal position between his two arms, and he raised him the smallest bit, up toward the prince. So Tobio came forward, quickly, and took him from the kneeling slave. Iwaizumi looked up as the weight was lifted from him and came face to face with the prince, who did not meet his gaze. The sharp blue stayed frozen to the expressionless boy, and as he was taken from him Iwaizumi felt a single tight nerve release itself, in acknowledgement of the pain which fell in waves through the ocean of the blue eyes.

Tobio turned with the boy in his arms and immediately began to walk away.

“Go toward the yard on the north side,” he said over his shoulder. “One level above the door there is a portrait room with a window. It is a small jump to the battlement, then to the ground. Reach the moat without being spotted, then swim around to the place where it meets the river. Keep to the water until you reach the outer villages, to ensure that you escape notice.”

Iwaizumi watched them disappear around the corner.

 

Tobio sped faster and faster toward his chamber, as his arms grew weak with spasms of shock. He shuffled frantically through the connecting hall and jogged to his bed as the boy was slipping.

“Majesty!”

He did not look up at Kinoshita’s voice. The servant stood one moment to observe him laying the boy one the bed, then ran from the room.

Tobio knelt among the heaped curtains and his madly shaking hand came up to the boy’s pale, cool forehead. He pushed back the hair, now damp and crusted into clumps. Hinata did not stir. He looked down at the tightly wrapped cream sheet. As he leaned forward to undo it, a vile smell, not the familiar one, wafted up to him. He had to pause and lean away from the bed, to ensure he would not throw up.

He drew the sheet away from the upper body, and here too was the unfamiliar. Scratches, even small gouges, in the tender skin, and patches of red irritation, and all along the neck, bruising. Tears pooled as he traced with a fingertip, over one flaw and another in the precious perfect.

“No…”

He recoiled from the body, and instead took soft, very soft hold of the little hand that lay open. He turned his head away and rested it on the bed next to him. He shut his eyes. A tear slid from each.

 

Iwaizumi moved through the palace at the fastest rate he could slink. He made a full stop at every corner, checking once very quickly, then again if the hall had seemed empty at first glance. Arriving at what he assumed to be nearly the last turn, he checked only once before lurching into the hall. For a moment he was alone, but the next an open doorway filled with a swishing skirt. He froze, looked up the figure to its face, then started violently, causing the other to flinch.

The princess locked eyes with him. His jaw was slack, and her own lips parted in momentary uselessness.

“Hajime.”

The hushed tone was to him like cracking thunder, jolting his heart into a sudden agonizing gallop. His gaze ran over and over the lines of her face.

With a second look her quick eye understood, from his lack of clothing and his aura, the position he was in. Her voice was utterly firm, and urgent.

“Go,” she said. “Go.”

One step faltered; then he ran in obedience, faster and fuller now, to burn away the shock and distress. Her eyes were glued to his back until the moment it vanished.

 

In the black hours before dawn the prince paced madly within his chamber, all along eyeing the curtains of his four-poster, which swayed with occasional movement while three doctors made an examination of the boy. It was nearing three quarters of an hour that they had worked, and finally the prince could not sustain his patience.

“What have you found? Come out and speak at once.”

A thin man with a dark beard slid between the curtains and approached him, eyes up but passive. Tobio waited, hands behind his back and shoulders stiff.

“We put him into deeper sleep, with draughts,” the physician said. “We washed him, cleansing the wounds. We do not know just from looking whether he has broken bones, but the muscles in certain areas are heavily bruised. The most concerning is that he bleeds from the rear, indicating an internal tear, which we can only hope will heal itself in time.”

“If you can do nothing else, you are dismissed.”

Tobio walked out onto the balcony which overlooked the city, and stood taking deep, loud breaths. The physicians grouped outside the four-poster and spoke in low tones, with glances at the oblivious prince. Then the man who had spoken before gave an assertive nod, and stepped forward from them.

“Majesty.”

The prince turned his head only enough to acknowledge the speaker, not to put him within sight.

“The boy—is in no condition to be tampered with. Even if he should wake before dawn, he will by no means be fit, and any further exploitation—”

He rounded on them, fully enraged by the insinuation. The whole party of doctors and servants was frozen in terror.

“Leave my sight before I send you out in pieces!”

They fled, and in a few moments the room was empty. Tobio turned back to the dark outside world and rested heavily against the railing. There were very few lights below, and not a single star above.

He turned and sat down, resting his arms on his knees and his head back against the stone. He stared across the room at the curtains, unmoving.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments, thanks for interacting with the story!

Hinata woke to the sight of the stone floor streamed over with sunlight. He sat up in a flash and looked all around, at the walls of curtains, the one gap between them, the ceiling above, the columns and paintings and milling servants, who to him blended with the inactive scenery. The sheet had slid away from his shoulder, and he looked down at his chest, and the marks. He reached with a hand that he could not associate with himself, and pushed the sheet down farther. He looked at his torso.

He twisted and lay back down on his side. Tears slid from the glazed eyes across the bridge of his nose and down his cheek, onto the pillow.

His mind was slow to register the prince’s appearance at the doorway. Tobio spoke in a low rumble to a servant, who responded then pointed at the awake Hinata. The prince drew toward him, with large eyes; as he came near he slowed, and the boy took a moment to meet his gaze. Then the tears welled tsunamically and his crying became vocal. He pulled up the sheet to half hide his face. Tobio was beside the bed now, only looking at his vague figure from the corner of his eye.

“I am sorry.”

A sob burst from the boy and he pulled the covers up over his head, twisting so that his face was buried in the pillow. After several painful hiccups he attempted to speak.

“Satori came in and I tried to get away but he hit me and tied me and took me to the room—and I couldn’t get out and I tried to scream but no one—came—” There was a strangled sound. “Then he—I—I—How did I get here?”

“A slave brought you into my care.”

He stilled under the blanket.

“What happened to Iwaizumi-san, did he get away?”

“He escaped.”

The head turned so fast that the blanket fell away. The young face looked at him, and the prince looked back, until Hinata’s lips tremored and a loud cry escaped him. He hid himself once more.

“T—Tobio-sama—please don’t let him take me again!”

The harsh whimpers fell out with each of his desperate breaths. His voice strained high.

“Please keep him away, please don’t let him do that again. Ah—I—I’ll do whatever you want, please don’t let him get me…”

For one moment the prince was chilled and felt the hair raise on his neck; the next his vision splashed over with red fury. He stood up and spun toward the exit.

“Keep guard with your absolute lives,” he said to the servants. “One of you go for the guards, bring them in all their battle wear and tell them they are not to let Satori near him, they are not to let anyone in or out of this room.”

He did not see how the crack of his lightning voice made the boy cower, farther and farther from his surroundings.

When he entered the throne room, three things happened almost simultaneously; he saw the king and let out a bellow, made to charge the steps, and found himself virtually immobile within the grasp of a trio of soldiers. He gnashed his teeth as he struggled against them, and when he found no release through his muscles, he swelled his voice.

“You! How dare you stand in that spot and look down on me, how dare you look on my face at all after what you have done—”

“As you see, we were expecting you, Brother—”

“You are not my brother! I wish I had not been born, I wish I had never seen the light of day, and you bring this wish on he and I and all around you, you are a monster!”

The smirk was beyond terrible, almost transforming itself into a sneer.

“I knew it,” he sighed. “I knew you were in love with him.” He traipsed down the steps from the throne. “You know, I do not look kindly on the day of your birth either. You are so simple. So predictable. I—”

“You are nothing,” he cut in, “Nothing but a vicious cruel animal, you have no control and you are loathed, you have made yourself hated by your kingdom and your servants and your family! It is enough! I will no longer listen to a word from you, you are not my brother and you are no king!”

“Finally! Now you begin to play along, now you begin to—”

“You had no right to him, no right to annihilate him, and I will kill you for it! You may sleep with guards at every door and window, but I will get to you, and I will end you. You may lock me up, but I will escape. You may have me executed, but I will return as a demon and destroy you. I will tear this kingdom from your hand and throw it into the sea, and it will be in better care than now. But before I do, I will make you repent it.”

The blue fire throbbed, and the brown jewels glimmered hard.

“You will state your wrong and you will admit your guilt. Until you do I will not put you out of your misery.”

There was silence. Tobio heaved in his chest, while the guards stared with wide eyes up at the king.

Tooru’s smile crept back in. He clapped.

“Very, very well done Tobio-chan. I did not know you were capable of such well-chosen words. Perhaps you really have learned something in all these years with me.”

He turned with a wave of his hand.

“Take him out now. Even I grow tired of the family drama.”

“You will stay and hear me for once,” the prince shouted, “I owe you nothing anymore—”

“I will prepare my lines for next time,” said Tooru, “And we will continue the show at a later date.”

“You are a disgrace, you know nothing but your own amusement and it is sickening—”

“It is true that you played your part spectacularly today, Tobio. But do not underestimate me. Goodbye now.”

“Tooru! I swear that the gods will cast you off, if there is a heaven they will set you a universe apart from it, you deserve nothing for the rest of your worthless life—”

The guards drug him through the double doors and slammed them behind.

The king paced across the magenta rug, back and forth in front of the council seats, kicking out his feet with each step.

“He was terrific, but not flawless,” he said to himself. “He does not know when to stop, he should have done so after the pause to catch his breath. Hm hm,” he chuckled. “Still so pure, after everything…Such simplicity. It is really quite sickening.”

He had stopped, and now stood directly in front of the great seat.

“I often wondered who my father really favored, one son a common whore, the other a common bore.” His lips curled at his own joke. “That is probably why he took to his deathbed with so much dignity.”

He sighed.

“I have worked so diligently, for all my years since the arrival of the beloved brat. I must take and take, and yet…Tobio still has things that I want. What…to…do.”

He smiled.

Outside, Tobio struggled against them, through three halls, until he broke halfway free and was granted his other half without question. He ran off.

He swept back to his chambers, demanding as he passed the doorway whether anyone had entered.

“No.”

Watari and Narita hurried behind him. The guards at the bedside flinched at his entrance.

“How is he feeling?”

Ennoshita waited until the prince was near enough that he could answer in undertones.

“He has not stopped crying. He will not speak to anyone, will not answer questions.”

The side curtain had been pulled back, so that the bed was in full view. Tobio approached it. He could see the shaking lump under the sheets, and hear the shameless crying.

“Shoyo.”

The noise stopped. Tobio took one more step, but shifted on it in indecision.

“You are in pain?”

Pause.

“A—M—My—Yes.”

“Do you think that you have broken any bones?”

An audible breath. “No.”

“Are your muscles sore?”

“Ye—Yes.”

“Where does it hurt most?”

He took one huff, two, attempting to keep himself composed, but it failed. His only response was to dissolve into audible tears. Tobio cleared his throat, mostly to drown out the sound.

“The physician will examine you again, to see if—”

“No!”

The prince and everyone in the room started.

“Please no.” Now he spoke through sobs. “I don’t want you to look. I don’t want anyone to see me. I—want—…”

“What do you want?” he said.

“I’m scared. I want to go home.”

The knot of tension in Tobio’s gut spasmed. For the thousandth time his insides drowned in cold.

“You cannot go home until the physician examines you.”

“You leave,” said the boy. “I don’t want you to see me.”

“I—have already seen you—”

“I can’t look at you!”

The scream had frayed out of control, heaving a terrible echo at the walls.

“Leave,” he begged. Tobio took immediate steps back.

“I am going.”

Hinata squeezed the sheets in his fists, and shut his eyes to the world.

It had never been, and was still not, meant to be that the prince could find a place of peace within the palace. Not five minutes had gone into his pacing in an abandoned breakfasting room when the glass-paned doors were thrown open. The princess entered.

“Tobio-san. I demand a word from you, an explanation. There is obvious chaos, people running in all directions and none with a thought to spare for informing me of the crisis at hand. What is this mania about?”

“My brother is a god of destruction and havoc,” he said loudly. “The crisis is his doing, the mania is in him.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“He is an abomination! He has stolen from me for the last time. My boy was violated by him, and the gods help me if it is not the last of his conquests.”

“What?”

He whirled on her. “He took the boy from my chamber, abused him and sent him back with half his spirit intact.”

Her eyes were narrowed and intense, and she spoke with vigor.

“You mean he acted on the same intentions which you have had all along?”

“How dare you, I had no such intentions, I did him no harm and did not dream of it! Ever!”

“You would not force him, but you would have him kept here, against his will, until his resistance to you collapsed,” she cried.

“I did no—such—thing. I vowed to release the boy, he was to go that very night, but he promised in return that he would consent to it, to my wish, once before he left. And do not look at me so, you know as well as all that I cannot act, I cannot play the part of the liar. It is my brother’s role and there is no room for me in it. The boy relented, because it had become clear that I am the one whose situation should be pitied, and his heart was weak to the irreversible damnation of my race and my soul.”

In the silence he huffed, and turned his back on her once more.

“The boy is no ordinary commoner,” Akaashi said, now low and dangerous. “Rather, no ordinary human. Because I cannot find in my heart any such weakness. Your situation is only irreversible because of your belief in the fact. As I see it there are lessons to be learned, and it is only by refusing to heed these lessons that you will damn yourself. If you truly cared for this boy, you should not have kept him here.”

He made no answer, no acknowledgement, to this. It was she who spoke again, after a time.

“Please forgive me. But I am angry, as you are.”

She left.

Tobio returned to the room, and suffered a shock from seeing the boy on his feet. He was speaking to the two returned doctors. But when he saw the prince, he ran. He sprinted to the bed and slipped behind the half-closed curtain.

Tobio came to stand just on the other side, close enough to hear the breathing.

“Listen to me,” he pleaded.

Hinata’s chest shuddered to a stop.

“I am releasing you. You will not be able to heal properly in a place which has been nothing but a horror to you. You will go back to your old life, and no one will disturb you from it.” He gritted his teeth, then took a moment to let the anguish slide off his face. “I am sorry. Very—sorry.”

Behind the curtain the boy’s eyes scrunched up with new tears. And though he tried so hard, he could not stop the whimper.

“The fault was mine,” the prince said. “I did not protect you as I should have, and you were wrongfully required to pay the consequence of my carelessness.”

The boy gulped a big breath. He half choked and half whispered, but it was perfectly clear to the prince’s ear.

“You don’t want me anymore.”

Pause.

“I cannot have you.”

“I don’t hate you,” Hinata said. “Do you hate me?”

The shake of the voice made the prince bite hard on his lip.

“No.”

Now there was silence. The redhead stood trembling on his feet, and fighting it madly so that he could keep his hiccups quiet.

Tobio moved away.

“Rest more. You will leave at dusk, so that no will know of it.”

Since the moment he drug himself from the mouth of the river, Iwaizumi had been searching the city for any trace of the boy’s roots. A random knock had finally lead him to Tanaka Saeko, who lived far from the destination but willingly escorted him there. Now she and her brother stood back as the slave approached the door of a clay hut, in line with all the others of its kind. Iwaizumi knocked.

The door was less than half open when a loud cry issued from inside.

“Hello!”

He looked down, at a small girl with a shock of orange hair. As she smiled through closed lips he traced all the likenesses of feature. She wore a different expression, but the longer he studied the less he saw any deviation at all. He felt his throat constricting against his will.

The man at the table spoke.

“How can we be of help to you?”

Iwaizumi looked up at him. Then he looked to his left, at the woman in the corner who had paused over her needlework.

“Are you—of the name Hinata?”

The man tensed. “Yes.”

He swallowed. “Do you have a son?”

“Yes,” the mother shrieked out, “Yes we have a son.”

“We have a son,” he repeated.

The woman rushed to her family, putting one hand on her husband’s shoulder and holding her daughter against her hip. Iwaizumi tilted back his head, trying to keep in the tears.

“I have seen him.”

By dusk Hinata had temporarily dispelled of all tears. He stood shivering in the familiar striped shirt, now with an extra layer of shorts underneath. The room was quiet, awaiting the prince. When he entered the boy kept his head angled away, and his eyes down. Tobio did not attempt to come close. He spoke coolly to Ennoshita.

“I am entrusting him to you, to be escorted through the palace, and then through the city. He will lead you, of course, he knows the way. You will take him in chains, and if you meet anyone you shall say that he is being delivered to the prison.” Then he turned to the pair of guards. “You, and you. See them safely to the moat.”

“Yes Tobio-sama.”

Now he turned fully around, and addressed the boy.

“You must stay near Ennoshita.”

He was not looking up, but he nodded readily.

“You will see your family and all of your acquaintances, and your own home. You will recover.”

The brown eyes came inching up, and if it was the last he would see of them, the prince was glad for the flicker of life there. Hinata looked back down and gave half a nod, mostly to himself. Then he moved to walk past him.

He was only one step beyond when he stopped. Tobio had turned to watch him go, and now faced him as they stood a foot apart. The boy took a breath, in preparation to speak, but it only ended in a sign. The prince sensed finality in it; for that, the only one more surprised than he was Ennoshita, when Hinata turned and hugged him hard around the middle.

Tobio stayed still, still enough to feel the tiny persistent shake of the boy’s body as it pressed against his hip. Before he had time to consider the standard reaction of lowering his arms to return the embrace, then to reason that in light of the circumstances this was a terrible idea, the boy had let go. He turned without looking, and stood waiting for the humbly stunned Ennoshita to place him in shackles.

Futakuchi, spear in hand, lead the line. Ennoshita followed, holding the end of a short chain, and the boy came after him, hands linked in front of him. Terushima brought up the rear.

Hinata sighed, and a few moments later came the unmistakable sound of his crying. The servant slowed and glanced back.

“Are you in pain?”

He sniffled and blinked out more tears.

“Do you wish to stop?”

“I just want to go home,” he moaned.

Ennoshita was about to attempt words of reassurance, but they died in his throat. Futakuchi had stopped ahead of them, because someone stood in the forward doorway.

It was Satori.

“Run.”

The word came instantly from Futakuchi, and was instantly obeyed by Ennoshita. He gripped the chain and lurched to the left, with Hinata at his heel but leaving his wits behind him. There was an unintelligible cry from Satori, and they found their new path blocked, by a meaty soldier in full armor. Ennoshita skidded, stopped, grabbed Hinata’s arm and pulled him firmly behind his body, before returning to their shield of two. He looked around them, as the other two were doing, and watched each of the five exits fill with guards.

“So naughty!”

The voice made the whole party’s skin crawl, but none more than Hinata’s.

“So much trouble you cause, for such a teeny weeny one,” said Satori. “And you, Ennishiti-kun, acting so—noble, but not so loyal as you ought.”

He swayed in the doorway. A chilling breeze blew from nowhere, rustling bizarrely through the blood red hair.

“Move aside, Satori,” Ennoshita said finally. “I do not know why you are here, but it will not distract from my purpose.”

“Haaa,” he sighed. “Even from the good mouths come many lies. Three of you do know why I am here, or you would not have prepared so quickly for fight and flight. Only one of you—does not know.”

His chin was high, as his orb eyes beaded down, past Ennoshita’s shoulder, at the boy.

“Chibi does not know of our ways, our traditions. I shall explain to him.”

“You shall not. He does not owe an ear to you.”

“But Chibi wants to know. I can see it, yes.” He wagged his eyebrows, and Hinata’s eyes screamed. “I can see it, the fear, but the hunger. He knows—that he must know—what will come.”

“No matter what the traditions say,” said Ennoshita, “He knows that he will not be touched by you. It is over, your power is gone.”

“I will tell you of the tradition, Chibi-chan.”

He slunk a step forward, and both guards stomped to the side, closing their companions off from the man. His curly smirk did not falter, and he put up a bone of a finger.

“A slave of your purpose…who is released from the palace…becomes forfeited property to the noble class.”

Ennoshita’s free hand came behind him and gripped the boy’s arm.

“Do not listen,” he murmured.

“You now belong not to our Osu, but to his lower brethren,” said Satori. “And they may rightfully use you—in their market of the flesh. That—” He stopped on his heels, hands behind his back, eyes rolling around in Hinata’s vicinity. “Is the tradition.”

“Let it be damned!” said Ennoshita. His hands came off the boy, one moment before the body began to tremor in waves, up and down.

“I have my instructions, I am to take him home, and I will obey my orders, the gods help me.”

“And help us also,” said Futakuchi, with a threatening smirk.

“You must hope that they do,” said Satori. “Because your master, he will not.”

He moved again toward them. The guards held their ground, but Ennoshita and the boy backed up.

“Tobi-chibi is our precious prince. He is no king. And so, as you see…the tradition stands.”

Hinata was gripping the servant’s shirt and keeping his face pressed into it, paralyzed.

“You must hand over Trouble Chibi to us.”

The three guardians took a moment to glance around them at the occupied doorways.

“Even if there are a thousand of ‘us,’ there will be no handing,” said Terushima. “You’ll have to take him.”

With that the two soldiers crouched into fighting stances. Ennoshita’s left hand was hidden from view as it slipped under the hip of his pants, and as he drew out a short knife.

Satori turned his side to them, then lolled his head back on a sickeningly flexible neck. “No need to fret for that. I expected as much.” He straightened up and fronted himself.

“Get the boy.”

The atmosphere was shattered by Hinata’s scream, as he turned and ran blindly away from the demon man. His three protectors turned and gave chase, but they were not quick enough to stop him sprinting right into the arms of a Satori ally. Futakuchi raised his spear, only to be struck on the shoulder, then the side of the head, leveling him. Terushima was forced into combat with three opposers at once, and Ennoshita, who the brown eyes turned to with their last shards of hope, was tackled to the floor, releasing his weapon only just in time to avoid puncturing his own chest.

Hinata was held and wrapped with the remainder of his chain, by three giants, as he continued to use the lungs which were the only top capacity available to him. A coarse sack was pulled over his head. It worked only as a mild muffle, but it did not need to excel in this purpose. They were as good as under the night sky now.

Now each of the guards were held by four spearheads near the throat, and dared not unite their cries with the boy’s. Ennoshita joined in for only as long as it took to be gagged by the thugs. Satori stood near the door as the soldiers in possession of Hinata marched past him, and he looked at his fellow servant in as much seriousness as was possible for him.

“You must be locked up deep and dark and tight,” he said. “We cannot have your squealing to Masters too early.”

He spun and followed the kidnapping party.


	12. Chapter 12

Satori made his confident way along the western edge of the city. The solemn party of guards followed, with Hinata carried ceremoniously over one broad shoulder. He no longer struggled. The lanterns mounted on poles lit the way, but their light swung spectrally with the vigorous breeze.

Satori halted, at the front door of a grand manor situated at the end of the sloped street. The rest stopped behind him. A ghastly thin fist reached out and rapped three times on the door. It was opened immediately by a keeper.

“Your business?”

“I must see your Master Wakatoshi.”

“Yes, that is implied. But what is the meeting specifically concerned with?”

“I have an item I wish to pawn. A living item.”

The keeper’s eyes flickered over the rest of the group.

“Very well. If it is his wish, he will come momentarily.”

He shut the door.

Satori hummed a little as he swayed on his feet; the rest waited in perfect silence, save the boy’s slow, heavy breathing against the material over his mouth.

The door opened again, and a man twice the size of the keeper came out to the edge of the top step. He was not only tall, but built in as burly a way as the guards present.

“Satori,” the man said. “You come earlier than usual.”

He threw back his red head and laughed.

“My merchandise has an early bedtime, you see. I have—”

He gestured with urgency to the guard, who set the boy on his feet and spun him violently forward, after which another whipped the sack from his head. This combination and the addition of the flood of light from inside the house dizzied Hinata, who blinked in terror, attempting to clear his vision.

“The Chibi!” Satori flourished.

Hinata stared as his eyes adjusted, not at the face but the massive body of the man who stood in the doorway.

“The boy,” Wakatoshi’s low voice throbbed, “Who was chosen at the ceremony of the young prince.”

It was impossible for the man to appear unconscious in anything he did, but his step down to the second stair had some visible tone of inattention.

“What an intriguing creature.”

Hinata had settled into an unresponsive daze, and his eyes did not register though the stern face bent near his line of sight.

“You bring him here to sell?” said Wakatoshi.

“Indeeeed.”

“Hm…No, I do not want him.”

Satori’s mouth, even as it circled in shock, maintained the cheery upturn of the corners. Wakatoshi’s face was unchanging as he moved back under the doorframe.

“You know that my interest is in the affairs of the king. He, not the prince, is the basis of my collection. I would take him, because he is a rare and exotic piece, but you will find another who is willing to pay a higher price for him. Being the first, the premium, for the young prince, he is quite valuable.”

“Yes, yes, he is,” said Satori. His eyelids fell heavy and his mouth was in a line so straight it seemed crooked. “And I have one thing which will I think convince of his value—to you.”

“You are an old acquaintance, and I will do you the service of hearing this one thing.”

“The boy...was not put to use by Prince Tobio. A night ago he was—stolen—and violated—by our very own, dear, Osu.”

Wakatoshi’s eyes grew larger, and he said:

“Never did I imagine Tooru-sama capable of such an evil, though his lawlessness has always been at the forefront of his character. This boy represents a feud of blood, brother against brother. He is the mark of the king’s great sin.” He paused on a single thought. “I will pay you ten thousand. And take him immediately.”

“As always,” he cooed, “Your offer pleases me.”

Wakatoshi spoke a word to the servant at his elbow, and the man went to fetch the money. He brought the bag past his master to the wiggling fingers of Satori, who gave a simpering grin that practically made him run back to the shelter of the house.

Hinata was in the most debilitating state of shock as a guard marched him up the steps to the man. Wakatoshi’s heavy hand came onto his shoulder and took him inside. They began to walk down the entrance hall, as the man explained:

“I am a collector of all things Tooru. Since youth he has fascinated me with his proudly playful mannerisms and his overt intelligence. You will be the new centerpiece to my collection, which has grown rather monotonous in quality this last year.”

He stopped at the halfway point of the hall, and bent down to within an inch of Hinata’s face. Then with his large thumb and finger he gripped at the smooth jawbones and tilted the chin up into the glow of light.

“The hair has a vibrancy which will catch eyes, for certain. A lively face to hold attention. A sturdy build, not too spindly, which is the typical problem. Built to endure. I can see that you have the potential to do very well.”

The man released him and straightened back to his towering height. He beckoned to the waiting servants, who each slid a hand under the boy’s arms, and led him toward the dark end of the hall.

 

Akaashi was deep in the refuge of sleep, and it took nearly a minute of solid pounding on the door to rouse her. She sat up, but Kenma was right at hand to push her gently back down, and speak in a murmured whisper.

“Pretend that you are still asleep.”

She lay in obedient stillness as Kenma exited the four-poster and carefully steadied the curtain, then crossed the room to answer to the knocking. It was not long before the light from the open doorway disappeared. Akaashi’s muscles tensed farther and she stared hard through the dark, listening to silence. The curtain was pulled back with suddenness and she gasped. Recognizing Kenma, she relaxed her shoulders, but did not cease her sitting up.

“What is it? The brothers have not killed one another, have they?”

“No. The king—requested your company.”

Akaashi held her eyes steady for a longer moment than usual, to ensure that both their expressions could be properly interpreted here in the dark.

“I told them that you should not be woken,” said Kenma.

“Are my guards at the door?”

“All six.”

She breathed. “Go back to sleep now, Kenma, thank you.”

The woman left her. Akaashi sat in active thought.

 

The river’s early morning mist was beautiful in its sinister sedateness. The same could be said of the princess who wandered to and fro a few yards from the quiet bank. The current purred, and she listened to it and to the sound of her padding feet, until there came a third sound. A presence. She stopped all movement and looked over her shoulder. Iwaizumi stood there, blurred at the edges from the mist. She squinted with determination to bring him into focus.

“H—Hello,” said he.

“Hello.”

She turned fully toward him. He looked at her to fill his gaze, while she looked to observe his manner.

“I came in hopes that something would lead you to the same spot,” she said.

The lines of his shoulders were still not perfectly clear, and she recognized that he was trembling. It did not strike her as betraying weakness in him, only nerves, or a fearful disbelief.

“I came—in hopes that you would be here.” He met her eyes, but at an angle which hooded his own. His shoulders were slightly hunched. “I had half convinced myself that what I saw was not—the reality. I admit, given the desperation of my situation, and the fact that I had heard nothing of you in four years, I was—more than half doubt.”

She had often felt compelled to speak, but had never felt so _eager_ as she did now. But as was her character, she put aside her questions and prepared herself for his.

“You—are—of noble blood…Are you of this land?”

“No,” she said. “My home is the one you always believed it to be. The difference is that I myself am not who you believed me to be.”

“Who are you?”

His tone was still hushed, though she spoke at normal volume.

“I am the princess and the heiress to the throne in my home country. I am the only child of the king and queen. I was a guest at this palace, and now consider myself an undeclared prisoner.”

“Why did you live at the seaside as a child?”

“It is unheard of in my country to rear the royal children directly under the yoke of power. I was sent away to qualified caretakers, in order to learn humility and an understanding of the people whom I am to govern in future.”

In the following silence he read a hundred more answers running through her eyes. Then he dropped his, resigned to their settling on his feet.

“I—did not return to you—I am sorry.”

“It is my wish to hear the explanation before I form the judgement of whether an apology is in order.”

He bowed his head, then raised it, but looked beyond her, at the hazy river.

“I returned in safety to our shores, crossed the desert…and reached the city. On the first night I was taken, from the streets, for use in a custom you are probably familiar with?”

His eyes came once toward her, and she nodded.

“I belonged to the prince, now the king, and I could not say or do anything which changed my situation. And I must—admit it—to you. If only you.” His fists tightened, and the anguish carried up his arms, pinching every visible muscle. “That after a time, I gave up the attempt.”

There was silence.

“Do you know anything of the orange-haired boy?” the man said. “He is in the possession of the younger prince.”

“I met the boy. I have spoken with him.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes did not leave the line of the water. “When I heard that he had come, I was moved, as I had not been in—ages. I felt the kinship of someone who I did not know, but who I knew shared my very same suffering. And though I did not show it to my abuser, the resistance was stirring up in me once again. Then—he came—to where I was. He is like a fairy, like a kind of desert nymph, is he not?”

He did look at her now, and did not look away, even as his eyes shone with tears.

“Yes, that he is aura. Indeed.”

“He is the one who released me. He freed me, though he had no earthly reason to think beyond himself and what had—just been done. Without him there I know I would not have had the strength to go on my own. It was his necessity which broke the chains that ran deeper, the ones that had grown up within me. Forgive me, I do not speak well, I wish someone else could tell the story. It is like the gods’ stories. It was like divine intervention. Except that the ending is different.”

His eyes broke, then the tension in his body.

“My chains did not break clean. We met the prince, during our escape, and I weakened. I gave him back. And of all the injustices—” Now the voice cried out, though mutedly, “This is the worst, and it is my doing—that he is still inside, while I am out.”

“You need not berate yourself any longer over that.” Her voice was even as ever, but she spoke through bleary eyes. “The prince intended to release him, and if he has not you may rest assured that I will see to it. I am to be damned if I spend so much time in this place of heathens and do not achieve some small improvement in it.”

Again they were quiet.

“Iwaizumi-san.”

She waited for him to meet her gaze.

“I am engaged to be married. I assume you did not ask because of the potential horror over the identity of my fiancé. I am promised to Prince Tobio.”

He swallowed. “I suspected it was a circumstance of that sort.”

“Our marriage is imminent, more now than it was a few days ago, with the passing of their father. My family and my country expect me to be wed. This country expects it. The prince expects it, putting aside any contrary desires of his own. I hardly presume to know what this king expects, but for as long as is possible I intend to do the opposite.”

Quiet.

“There is another question I wait for you to answer,” said the young man.

“Why I did not tell you who I was.”

“Yes. Of course it was a secret for your safety, and I would never have wished to know it and jeopardize you. But—”

“But the reason I did not tell you was that during the time of—us, of our establishment, there were already talks of another, a prince of the south. From the moment I came to the understanding that I was not to be granted a choice, I settled on the only feasible solution, that I must run away, and that you must help me to conceal myself, in order to prevent this other commitment. I did not wish you to know my identity, because if you did and then I proposed my plan, I knew that your sense of duty would push you to insisting that I stay, that I remain dedicated to my role in the kingdom. Is it not what you would have advised me?” She smiled. “At sixteen, is it not what you would have judged to be right?”

“I—could not know for sure. But I believe so.”

“I cannot speak with you much longer in this open place.”

He nodded hurriedly.

“I know that already the king will begin to wonder, although it is least of all his business. And I know that at this time the appropriate thing would be an exchange of many feelings and words between us, but neither of our parties is in a position for such an action. Instead I must make one request and hope it receives a favorable answer. I am in great need of an ally. The currents are strong against me in this place, growing more opposed even as we speak. If you agree, my proposal is to have my servant work as the line of communication—”

His change of expression, to an inspired scowl, stopped her speech. He dropped to one knee.

“I will serve you to the last, and I entrust my life to your hands.”

Her brows raised uncharacteristically. His eyes did not come up.

Akaashi spoke.

“Then—I wish for you to take this.”

She turned her back, and her elbow made a small pulling motion, before she faced him once more and stepped closer.

“It must carry a different meaning now, but it will still represent a union. I have guarded it as I guarded my own beating heart. You should do the same.”

Her hands were together, forming a sealed cave. The young man cupped his own and held them out, not shaking now but rather steady in their curiosity. She opened her hands and let a thick silver ring fall from them.

His face was obvious of his pure shock. She made a single glance before she turned, and walked quickly in the direction of the palace.

“Please do not think it a cold-hearted gesture,” she said, slow and seriously soft. “It is everything but that.”

For an eternal moment he could not take his eyes off the ring. He looked up as her figure was melting to faintness in the mist.

 

Tobio sat in his empty chamber, on a low stool near the west balcony. He was hardly doing or thinking anything, only staring out at the land as it hunched under the little sunlight managing to penetrate the thick cloud cover.

His brother, the king, glided through the doorway and lit gleeful eyes on him. Tobio did not hear his approach, only noticing when he slid into his peripheral vision. He stood up immediately.

“Get out! Now!”

“I promised you a second act, did I not? We are due for another talk.”

The younger returned to his seat, turning resolutely toward the balcony. He placed his elbow on his knee and rested his stubborn chin in the palm of his hand.

“Where is my princess, Tobio? I have not seen her, not in a full day, and it is painful. Such a beautiful face chases out fear and woe. It looks as if you suffer from the same withdrawal.”

He made no move, no answer.

“Your demeanor confirms to me that I was right to come with urgency. I have been informed of the news of your desire for a speedy departure from your home, and it alarms me.”

The prince twisted sharply at the waist. “I have said no such thing to anybody. Liar.”

“Did I say that I had heard of it? No no no, my brother, I acted on intuition. Or perhaps it was merely logic. In your own eyes there is nothing left for you here. Is that not correct?”

Tobio looked away and again gave no response.

“Now, I have no objection to travel, I know it can only do you a wealth of good. But were you not going to ask my blessing, and more than that, my permission?”

“Neither has any meaning to me, so of course I would not.”

If he had looked, he would have seen an uncharacteristic shading in Tooru’s eyes, for one instant.

“I feel, Brother, that as your remaining family member and the one who holds you most dear, next to your wife, I should have a part in this matter of your marrying away and abandoning your old life. I admit that I do not look with great eagerness to the day of your departure, and it is my sincerest wish that it be deferred for at least a few months.”

The prince had been trying his best to shut his ears, but this caused immediate alarm, rising as a sickening wave up his chest.

“In addition, I wish to speak with both you and our princess about the ceremony itself. A grand vision has come to me, of its being held in this very palace, in the most beautiful celebration of human intimacy—”

“What?” said Tobio. “That is preposterous. I am not to reside here, why should my marriage be presented to these people who have no concern with it?”

“Only the very cold of heart would have no concern, dear one, you have been their prince for seventeen years.”

“You mean to say I have been the bane of their existence for seventeen years. Get out of here, now. I will leave if I so choose, at the time that suits me, and you will have to kill me to prevent it. Rest assured, I do not fear that.”

He sighed hard. “Tobio, Tobio…Even your motive for disrespecting your elder, your very king, is noble. I cannot kill you, or imprison you. I can only scold. There is no limit to the insolence and the mercy instilled…by love.”

Tobio leapt up, but the two guards who had followed their king into the room were forming a block, with spears out in his direction. Tooru smirked from behind them, already moving to the exit.

 

Since Wakatoshi had not been expecting him, for the first night Hinata was placed without disruption into his quarters, in the basement with the rest of the living collection. But on this the second night, the man was prepared to perform his customary practice. By personal rule, he was always the first after the king to enter the slaves.

Ten minutes passed between the time he instructed his servants to place the boy inside the special chamber and the time at which he himself stood before the door, having his final item of clothing removed. A servant pulled the loincloth loose while looking in the opposite direction. Then Wakatoshi opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. The first thing he saw was not the boy.

The high bed in the center of the room usually stood proud under the rich weight of layer upon layer of the finest silks and velvets, and was usually crowned by a canopy supported above four wooden beams of decadent chestnut color. Now before his eyes the coverings were piled in an unseemly heap. The pair of thick mattresses had been shoved from the bedframe, one to each side, and fluff and feathers poked through deep tears on their surfaces. There was an explosion of down all about the floor from several mutilated pillows. One of the four supports had been snapped off in the middle; the canopy was torn and clung to only two beams.

He spotted the boy at the back wall of the room. Inflamed eyes stared directly at him over a bare smooth shoulder, as Hinata hid his front side from the enterer’s view.

Upon his release into the room, naked and wracked by anxiety, Hinata had first attempted to find a means of escape. There were signs of this in the large sections of torn wallpaper, the broken art frames on the floor, and a heavyset wardrobe that had been climbed and shaken off balance so that it now lay on its side with one door open and a crack running across the top. Once it had become apparent that flight was impossible, he turned to destroying the main instrument of torture, which a mad hope told him might prevent the forthcoming events.

There was no trace of emotion in Wakatoshi’s face as he moved closer to the middle of the room. The boy shuffled along the wall, trying to keep away while hiding his shame. His way was barred by a decorative table and vase which had miraculously survived the storm of panicked aggression.

“You came willingly enough on the night of delivery,” said the master. “This streak of destructive resistance is a surprise to me.”

Much fear and a little spite moved Hinata to reach for the vase, turn and throw it with all his strength. Wakatoshi used his forearm to shield himself. The glass broke against his bone and muscle. He looked down at the pieces, then at his bleeding arm. The boy flinched away when the eyes pinned him. Then the man moved to an ornate chest near the door. He lifted the lid, reached in, and pulled out a black leather rope.

“Know that if you struggle, I will have to tie you. I do not like to do so, but if I must, I must.”

Hinata could not rally his voice to working order, but it was of no major consequence; he could hear the familiar screams well enough inside his own head.

 

It was past midnight. The princess sat on a cushion before the floor-to-ceiling mirror, brushing decisively through her black curls. Her busy mind prevented her from noticing the secretive amber eyes which had appeared above and to the left of her own reflection. Her hand paused as their sight met in the glass.

“What is the meaning of this stare, Kenma, you know I find it unsettling.”

“I am sorry…” Her eyes dropped. “I try to tell what you are thinking…It is working as well as usual, that is to say, not at all.”

She set down her brush and turned from the mirror. “You wish to know how I feel, more than my thinking, is that not correct? You think me susceptible to the allure of an old lover, though I spent less time with him than I have with you, in total.”

She stood up.

“This is not the time or place to let my feelings overwhelm me, regardless of the strength or the tenderness which they once had.”

“Would it be so easy to say so,” said Kenma, “If he were here, at this moment?”

Her dark eyes hardened to meet the challenge of the amber ones.

“Speaking with him is like conversing with an apparition. And he would not willingly come near me, so I assume the feeling to be mutual. The past is the past. I was young in the past, the prince’s father died in the past, and the present time is what we must concern ourselves—”

Both women turned as the door to the outer hall was opened. A palace servant and one of her own entered as a pair. She was silent as she watched them approach.

“Akaashi-sama?”

“Yes?” she said slowly.

“The king has sent a messenger, will you hear him?”

“Yes.”

She was frowning, which made her own manservant absolutely resolved to hold his tongue, and which made him cringe when the other dared speak.

“Tooru-sama humbly requests your presence in his bedchamber. He is having trouble sleeping, and wishes to discuss with you the matters which weigh on him.”

“Humbly indeed,” she said, surprising the palace’s worker, but not her own, by her plain tone. “He humbly calls for my unhesitating obedience in the dead of night based on his own need? I am afraid he will have only self-council for the time being. I am tired and in no fit mental state to be of help to him. You may answer in my own words.”

She waved her hand and moved away from them, toward the bed. Her servant grabbed the arm of the shocked other to rouse him from the room. When she heard the door close, she turned to look at Kenma.

“What do you say?”

“I—fear—for you,” said the small one.

She turned away.

“How cruel it is, that at some point we grow too old for running away. And that it is always the point at which we most want to.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though she's not having such a great time at this point of the story, happy birthday to Akaashi!

As Tobio was returning to his chamber from a solitary breakfast, the opposite end of the hall was suddenly lit up by the appearance of the princess. She caught his eye and held it. He did not notice that he had stopped moving, until she came to within a few feet and stopped herself.

“Good morning,” she said.

He made a slight bow of the head.

“I come early to you in hopes that the day has not had sufficient time to wear your spirits.”

“I—That is logical.”

She was not reassured, but nonetheless continued.

“I have two things to ask of you. Pardon, I should not say ‘of you,’ because they concern yourself as much as me.”

“Whether or not that is true, say what you will say,” the prince replied.

“When I leave this place, do you have any desire to go with me?”

It did not capture the great attention she had expected.

“I speak only of your coming to my homeland. I do not imply an immediate wedding or any such ceremony or presentation. It is not a question of that, only of whether you will depart with me.”

“I will marry at any time which pleases you,” he said without looking at her. “It does not matter to me whether you include it in your offer.”

“I acknowledge your view, and my offer remains solely one of changing your surroundings.”

“I will go with you.”

He gave her a look to confirm it, and she nodded curtly.

“My second item is more a request than an inquiry.”

“I welcome your request.”

“Are you willing to accompany me this morning when I speak to the king of our departure?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I admit that I am afraid of him,” said she, “As I cannot come to a sure understanding of his recent words and actions. I believe it would be a foolish and serious mistake to go to him alone.”

“You need not fear him,” he said, “You are more powerful than he could be in ten lifetimes. But—I have sensed a change in him, something beyond what I expected when he would assume the throne. I do not feel right about it…and so, I will go with you.”

“Thank you. I do require one promise, that you maintain a cool head, even in the face of his every attempt at instigation. We must not have ill temper displayed on either side, it will only hinder our purpose.”

He had turned a shoulder now. “In that case I cannot go with you. You ask the impossible.”

“Surely you are not so void of self-appreciation that you would submit to such a defeat.”

“There is absolutely no motivation for me to be reserved in regard to him.”

“Yes there is, one. I need you,” she said.

The prince looked at her. He returned his eyes to the opposite wall, then replied, quietly:

“And I you.”

 

By questioning a few servants along the way, they came to the Hall of Glass, so named for its many windows, and found it occupied by the bright-eyed king. He beamed, took an audible, expansive breath, and put his hands over his heart.

“My beloved young ones,” he said, with a smile so nearly genuine that its appearance on his brother’s face was jarring to Tobio.

“Your kindness is very much appreciated, Brother, in bringing the lovely queen-to-be with you. I am gladdened beyond words at your presence, Akaashi-san.”

“I regret that I am not, in my current state of mind, able to equal your warmth of sentiment. We are here to speak of a business-like matter.”

He was dramatic in his eye roll, plainly enjoying the making of the gesture. However, the fact that he could change expressions so quickly and so drastically was not short of astounding.

“This I should have guessed. Apparently the mark of my new kingship is to receive excessive cruelty from my close relations, rather than to bear the brunt of ill-will later in my reign. And what if I refuse to hear your business?”

“You will be behaving abominably, but not surprisingly,” said the prince.

Tooru’s chuckle was oddly real, confounding his brother yet again. The younger royals stood side by side as he wandered with airs in front of them.

“I will be leaving the country, soon,” said Akaashi, “And Tobio-san has decided that he will accompany me, when I do.”

Tooru did not hesitate to widen his smile.

“You are behaving abominably, but not surprisingly,” he said.

“We are behaving seriously.”

“I knew, from the previous discussions with you, that I would have to reiterate my point. I intended to show my goodwill by seeking you out, but I suppose this arrangement suffices, given that you are already set so firmly against me.”

His chin lolled slowly around to a downward angle at them.

“Now listen well.”

Their faces only hardened, but in response his voice glided with more ease.

“There is to be no rushing of this union. I do not desire it, and if you were old enough to know yourselves, you would not either.”

She began to speak, but he held up a single finger, not unthreatening.

“I would be very much amused, and would certainly consent, to your hurrying if it were spurred by passion. But that is not the source of your eagerness, anyone can see as much. As it stands you would have nothing to gain by a hasty entrance, save regret.”

Here she forced herself in. “My offer, as I explained to your brother, carries no implication whatsoever of an immediate wedding.”

“On the contrary, it is rather obvious that it does. Though it be true that you are greater than the average admirable young woman, what more—is left to your purpose?”

“Do go on with that thought,” she said, voice low but brimming with poison. “I am very interested to hear the end.”

“You came here as temptress, did you not? And as the natural order of things, now that you have secured a hold in him, you should lure him back with you, and proceed to employ him as your tool for personal advancement.”

Tobio pushed out his chest as the energy for the retort grew there. But then he felt chilled fingers slip delicately around his wrist. He turned, and watched her give a cool nod to the king.

“I thank you for completing the picture of your gender views, which I have wondered about for some time.”

“Never mind that,” Tooru said. “I have something of more value to the two of you. I am the very person to bear witness about past suffering directly rooted in this type of prearranged union. It is my unalterable wish that you give the relationship time. It is in your very best interest to fall in love before the official consolidation, because I of all people know that there is no time, and no premise, for developing love once you are married.”

“On the contrary,” said Akaashi, the shake in her voice surprising Tobio. “To work side by side, to be the support of one another in such noble and important a matter as government should foster the creation of an absolutely unbreakable bond. You would benefit from this very concept if you were so inclined to allow your wife any part in your affairs.”

Tobio looked rapidly between them.

Tooru’s answer did not match her heat, but it did her irritation. “It has become apparent to me that of all the things you still lack, the only one I am permitted to employ myself in is the consistent reminder that because you are endowed with a kingdom does not mean that you are endowed with perfect knowledge of how every kingdom should be run.”

This remark was easily brushed off by Akaashi, but now the prince riled.

“Of all your—”

Her hand moved up and grasped at his forearm just below the elbow. With an effort he tightened his throat around his response, muting the first violent syllables, while simultaneously using the half moment to conjure new words.

“If you truly wish for either of us to stay, you would do well to keep from insulting the princess.”

“And what you, Brother, always require of me is a check to your ungratefulness,” said Tooru. “I want nothing more than to see to your happiness, and am spit in the face for it.”

The muscle leapt to tautness under Akaashi’s fingers.

“My happiness has been the least of your concern since the day I was born!”

Then something happened which Tobio could not remember ever happening before. A screen, a layer of film, slid from his brother’s eyes. Suddenly there was nothing between Tobio and those glossy, glaring, hard-as-diamond orbs.

It was terrifying.

“You were raised for nothing _but_ happiness. I, my dear Tobio, was raised to rule, and to bend to rule and to government. I was raised to represent, to a be a shadow following my father, to be all to everyone and nothing to myself.” He almost laughed. “The center of your upbringing was always the fulfillment of each and every self-generated wish. You were raised for your own enjoyment.”

Tobio stared at the wildly serious eyes, the poignant quiver in the chest when each breath left it. Then the younger said haltingly:

“I was not raised. I was disregarded.”

The smirk and the screen returned.

“And I suppose that is a failure attributed to me. It was my responsibility to educate you, to include you in all my childhood training sessions, all my games and affairs, to pass all my learning on to you and make sure that you were keeping up. Well it may be that you did not have my attention then, dear one, but now you do, and I will hear no further complaint against my show of concern, against my refusal to let you run from your family, and your home, and your life.”

Sensing the verge of rage, Akaashi grabbed at his arm with both hands and forced herself around his shoulder into his line of vision. It was successful in completely driving away for a moment the thought of the king. Until:

“It is sunshine for the heart,” he said, “To see the unity between you as you come against me, and with that said how can either of you protest my logic? The longer you stay and nurture this arrangement of battle comrades, the more prepared you will be for your lifetime as companions. Not to mention, so much excitement, so much hot blood, will attract in other ways. You may yet learn something of pleasuring, before your most important of performances in front of your new bride, Tobio-chan.”

The prince pulled his arm loose and stepped in front of Akaashi.

“You are a beast! How can you expect, how can you begin to think that anyone would wish to stay in your presence? I only pity those who do not have the means to put an ocean between themselves and you.”

“Is it not amazing the sense of entitlement which has been fostered in each of us?” the king cried. “You are beside yourself in your belief that you may cast off your brother by choice, and I am adamant in my right to keep my brother exactly where I want him in spite of any protest.”

“Do not draw comparison between us, I refuse any and all association with you. When I leave here nothing whatever of it will follow, I will act in any matter under heaven and sacrifice every last bit of pride, be it necessary to maintaining my distance from you.”

“Gods of all mercy and goodness, how much of this am I expected to endure? It is really too brilliant and cruel an act! The brother of my very blood, of my very mother—”

“My mother did not birth you, you are a demon straight from the underworld, unleashed as a reckoning of the centuries of sin committed by my forefathers. And I will not pity you, and I will not forgive.”

“And I,” said Tooru, “Will not let you go.”

The prince turned his back and walked away. Akaashi was on his heel, and between the time he moved beyond the doorway and she followed him through it, she looked over her shoulder.

“I will be leaving,” she said. “And I will not be leaving without him.”

The king’s smile did not think of slipping. On the whole, he was exceedingly pleased.

Akaashi left the younger’s side after spotting the queen and her son at a breakfast table; while she joined them in a fittingly solemn mood, Tobio wandered on through the palace without destination. He came upon a trio of servants, recognized one and called out.

“Watari!”

The boy jumped so that the bottom of his tunic blew up to near indecency.

“Where is Ennoshita, he cannot still be ill.”

Watari bit hard on the truth that had leapt to his tongue automatically at his master’s demand. Satori had threatened them all quite thoroughly.

“H—He is still recovering, Majesty, it was quite a severe illness.”

“I have no time for this! Send him to me the moment he is on his feet.”

“Yes Tobio-sama.”

 

Dusk fell as a blanket over the outside world. In the heart of the southernmost borough, Yachi’s mother was making dinner. While the little brothers played cat and mouse in a loud fashion, their mother swore under her breath. “Hush,” she said then, and addressed Yachi. “I have no anise, you know it will be no good without it.”

“I didn’t know we were running low.”

“If you had, or anyone else, would there be none to speak of in the house?”

Two of the boys jumped in.

“Mother. Mother. I’ll go get some anise.”

“I will go. I’ll go too.”

“I think you know better than that, at this time of night,” was her reply.

“I’m old enough, I know to be careful of the busy roads and strangers—”

“No. Your sister will go, and only your sister. Up beyond the main square, Yachi, you know where to get the best.”

“Yes Mother.”

She went out.

It was at this time that the streets were busiest, when the lowers were going home after work, and all the wealthy night movers were coming out to begin business. For their density the streets were safe, but for the kind of people and their associated activities, they were dangerous. Yachi tried to hurry, eyes up and darting all around her. The going was slow, with so many larger jostling bodies to shy away from. Right in front of her two men slammed shoulders, causing one to drop all the contents of his egg basket. He was immediately irate, and neighbors to the incident jumped in to defend one side or the other. Yachi lurched to her right and sped away from the scene, only to find herself swept up in a fast current of people dressed much more profoundly than she.

When the party slowed and she seized a moment to extract herself, she found that she had been brought all the way to the very far side of the square, the side on which everyday business was not done. That is, not business she was used to. There was a thick crowd to one side of a wooden riser, and a line of diverse people, all attached to a long chain, were being trooped up the stairs of the platform.

As she looked, a moment longer than intended, her eyes blew up.

Her lips parted and it was barely a whisper at first.

“Hinata. Hina—”

Her panicked hand stifled the cry. But as it was, the redhead had not even perked an ear in her direction. Yachi stumbled backwards, paused to recover from her reeling wheeze, then turned and ran.

After a few blind corners, sense of direction returned to her and she headed for what she knew to be the closest familiar house. She knocked at the door and it was opened.

“Sugawara-san!”

“Yachi what’s the matter?” He came down from the single step and took her by the hands. “Are you hurt? What happened to you?”

“At the market—My mother sent me—To get anise—”

He squeezed her hands rhythmically, willing her to continue.

“I—I saw—Hinata—”

She burst into tears, all the strength of her eyes dissolving, and her hands going limp in his. “What? Hinata? You saw—Where did you see him Yachi?”

She could not answer. He took her by the shoulders and guided her forward.

“Come inside.”

He left the door open behind them. Sugawara’s aged parents sat near the back wall. His mother was looking at them while her fingers continued their needlework, and his father stirred from his napping. Sugawara put Yachi in a chair, then pulled one out for himself in front of her. He kept a warm hand on her arm, but struggled to steady it while she huffed at a dangerous rate.

“Yachi Yachi—Breathe. Breathe.”

He left her to the endeavor for a short half minute. Then he said:

“You saw him, surely and truly?”

Her nodding dizzied them both.

“He’s at the market— _in_ the market…It’s a trade—or a sale—He’s being sold.”

“So he’s left the palace,” he murmured. “And now—”

“Why must they do this, Suga-san, why are they torturing him?”

“Did he look hurt in any way, was he injured?”

“I—I couldn’t tell, because I couldn’t look at him any longer…I ran away.”

“What anyone would be inclined to do at first sight of something horrible.”

“But I left without him even knowing I was there,” she said, thick-throated. “And—it’s my fault because he was trying to protect me, all along he was—”

“No no no, we’re not going to talk that way. Come.” He pulled her to her feet. “All we can do is all we can do.”

Sugawara brought her out of the house, closed the door, and started off down the street.

“First we’ll go to Daichi. Then we’ll go to all our acquaintances in the village, as quickly as we can, and gather up whatever money the gods will.”

“We’re going to buy him back?”

“Even if I have to sell myself into ten years of labor. We will get him back.”

 

Tobio had been confining himself more than usual to his room. There were long stretches of aloneness between the peeking of curious servants, and this evening it had been almost half a day with no outside contact before Kinoshita came into his presence. He moved quickly, and not with an expression of peace.

“What is it,” said the prince.

Kinoshita hesitated, then finished his crossing of the room in a hurry and came directly to Tobio’s side. A critical eye slanted at him, but he made a brave lean and spoke low at his master’s shoulder.

“Ukai-san is outside, he requests to speak with you.”

The prince’s attention was caught, his sullenness dispelled. “Yes. Send him.”

The servant left, then in came the man, glancing around and behind him in a quiet manner. Tobio stood up from the cushion on the floor. Ukai bowed.

“Good evening, Majesty.”

“Where have you been?” he said. “I have asked for you, sought you myself, have you been avoiding a meeting with me?”

“I apologize for my absence. I felt—it was for the best.” He met his eyes. “You are aware, and I know that your brother is aware, that he has never been shown much favor by me. Now that he has assumed his full power, I recognize it as wisest to keep myself from his sight, at risk of being thrown from my position. If he does not see me he may not be inclined to take immediate action against me. But know, Tobio-sama, that I may very soon leave this palace at your brother’s command.”

“He could never do so, there is no one with the capability to replace you as advisor.”

“But your brother will want an advisor whose loyalty he can be sure of. He will want someone who agrees with him in all things, and the history between the two of us does not reflect such a pattern.”

“I will keep you on as my own advisor. You may depart with the princess and I and be rid of the king.”

“I could never do so, knowing so well the hand which I would leave the kingdom in. I assume there is some of this sentiment in you as well,” he said quietly, “Since you have not yet made a real attempt to leave us.”

Tobio’s eyes were steady on him, but did not offer a response.

“I fear that if I speak too long with you I will be found out,” Ukai said. “What I need to mention most urgently is that I have been going through our histories, through the old laws. There does exist certain checks to the king’s power, but the procedures are complex and not well understood, being out of use so long. And they will require a great deal of lobbying on my part. Making allies will more than likely prove difficult, under a king who instills so much fear by the mere fact of being himself. I have come to you, first and foremost, Prince Tobio, because you are the most important ally.”

There appeared a scowl on the already dark brow.

“It grieves me to bring you into these affairs when you have the chance to escape them, but it will not be possible without you.”

“What makes you say this? I have no power over him, he has never respected me and never bothered to hide this fact from anyone,” said the prince.

“But you are, for better or worse, of his own blood. That is closer in stature than anyone else would be able to achieve in a hundred years.”

“I hardly believe anymore that that is true.” He was looking hard in another direction. “I was never treated as if we shared this blood.”

“It is true,” said Ukai, “That many of the things which could have benefited you were withheld. But though you are different than Tooru-sama, who has always been receiver of the claim that he was born with every advantage, I have since the beginning recognized many natural qualities in you which are not easily discredited.”

“You would flatter me to make an ally of me? Surely, if you know my brother, you know that any attempt which comes after his would be pitiful.”

“You may call it flattery, I suppose, but there is such a thing as praise where it is merited. You do not have much experience with it, I know. But to my first point. You have always had a conscience.”

Tobio’s look was incredulous.

“You have been in hiding, and that is the only reason you can say to me at this point that I have a conscience.”

“You have it,” he insisted. “The reason you have not always _obeyed it_ is the same reason that no one always obeys it. But that you have it, and that it has by some miracle survived your upbringing, is noteworthy. I have kept in touch with palace happenings. I know that you released the boy, and that your intention to do so was present before your hand was forced.”

His mouth thinned and he turned sharply at the shoulders. “I no longer speak of those things, Sensei.”

The man looked surprised, then apologetic, but also pleased in a small way. He did not let the prince see the last.

“There is no one, and I do not believe there has ever been one born, who could come against your brother directly, and be the victor. The kingdom does not need you to make a knight of yourself. It needs you to remain in the same position you have always occupied, but to rise in that position. To my way of thinking, though I do not contend that it is the ultimate way, you need not threaten him, only pressure him.”

Quiet.

“These seem equally futile, to me,” he said.

The man swept his eyes up and down the fit figure before him, the one which had always, but more and more lately, struck him as so capable. Then he began to move away.

“I must go now, Tobio-sama. You know that I am only an advisor. My sole power is in begging you to consider my words.”

He was about to cross the threshold into the hall when the prince spoke.

“Stay safely out of his sight.”

Ukai nodded, at Tobio’s back, and left.

 

They had gone to every household which claimed an association with Hinata Shoyo, except his own household. Not desiring to throw them into hysterics, they had also ordered all to keep the knowledge from the family. Even so, those assembled at the square still half feared the scene would be rushed by distraught parents.

Present were Yachi, Sugawara, Daichi, Izumi and his mother. They arrived just as there was a triumphant “sold,” and watched the full-figured young woman led down the platform and through the crowd to the buyer, by a rope. Those yet to be auctioned stood in a row at the back of the riser, facing away from the crowd. But even from behind there was no mistaking him. Hinata was the next to be turned and led to the front.

It took one look to break Izumi down into fitful tears. His mother had known the effect would be some such thing, and pulled him to her bosom, even as her own eyes welled.

“To be let,” called the organizer. “A redhead, male, standing twelve hands, weighing eighty stones. Formerly the property of the prince, the very brother to the king. His provider, the venerable Wakatoshi-san.”

The grave master stood beside Hinata and the speaker. The common class group, in possession of the meal security of more than a dozen households, did not know the significance of Wakatoshi’s presence, but nobles recognized this as a strong endorsement, and consequently Kuroo, Bokuto, Matsukawa and Hanamaki had joined forces to bid the boy into their hand.

“Would you care to repeat your explanation on why the two of us have to be here?” said Matsukawa.

“If our party were to lose,” said Hanamaki, “The two of us would not see our money again.”

“But if we win we will not be seeing it either.”

“We will not lose,” said Bokuto.

“Yes, you are wise to put your faith in me,” said Kuroo. He was to be the spokesman.

On the other side, the representative was Daichi.

“Daichi, don’t make a move until I tell you so.”

“Yes, Suga, I already agreed to that.”

“Don’t lose your head, is what I mean to say.”

They remained tightknit, well back in the crowd, and by an unspoken agreement were careful not to let Hinata know of their presence. No one would acknowledge the reason this was necessary.

The crier began.

“Starting at—one thousand. One thousand—”

“Five thousand!”

There was a rush of turning heads and tense murmurs. It was Kuroo who had called out.

“What in the name of the Almighty Ra are you doing?” Hanamaki snapped in his ear.

“This is my strategy,” he grinned. “It is a way of intimidating.”

“Five thousand,” said the organizer. “Any others to match, anyone to match at five thousand.”

There were two hands, the other hedging Daichi’s.

“Five thousand at the right front. Six thousand, takers at six thousand.”

Suga threw an elbow, and Daichi raised his hand.

“Six thousand at the back. Six thousand five hundred, do we have—”

“Six five.” Kuroo raised his hand.

“Six seven, say seven,” Suga whispered.

“Six seven.”

“Six seven in the back left. Do we have six eight?”

“Six eight,” said Kuroo. Bokuto laughed with glee and hit his arm.

“Do we have six nine—”

“Seven.” It was a new voice.

“Seven one.” Another new voice.

Hinata, as Yachi watched without pause, had not once raised his stiff brow. As she looked at a friend unrecognizable in demeanor, her chin began to tremble. Izumi was hiding his face in his mother’s neck. Yachi broke her gaze one moment to reach and grab his hand. He looked at her, then to where she looked, where they all looked, up at Hinata.

“Seven five,” from Kuroo.

“You do know that we only have eight,” said Hanamaki.

“I know very well what we have.”

“If we have only eight,” said Matsukawa, “Why was I required to put in three?”

It seemed the pace of the very air was quickening.

“Seven six,” Suga hissed.

“Do we have that?”

“I know what we have. Go, go.”

“Seven six.”

“Seven six in the back left.”

Kuroo’s cronies were quiet around him, as he stayed silent and stared hard at the platform, waiting.

“Seven eight—”

His hand shot up.

“Seven nine?”

“Seven nine here.”

“Here.” Kuroo raised again.

“Eight.”

“Eight,” he matched.

“Eight one—”

“Eight one,” said Daichi. His voice was authoritative, but he shot a glance at Sugawara.

“Well…I am defeated,” said Kuroo.

Bokuto wailed in lament and covered his face. The other two gifted him with glares.

“Was it by consensus that you are the intelligent one among us,” said Hanamaki, “Or was it a self-designated title?”

“We will surely get him tomorrow,” said the disfavored. “I am certain he will be coming out again.”

“In the meantime, I assume there is no objection to the repossession of my three thousand,” said Matsukawa.

Sugawara was looking as hard as he could look, as burning spasms crawled up his throat.

The shape of their friend was so familiar, that tiny frame held together with such surety. That hue of hair which was like certain spices but unlike them in its aliveness, its dancing flame of color. When you saw him, whole, you could not from that moment forget him, and that was why from a mass of comparatively destitute people they had been able to extract a sum equaling that of the generic wealthy.

Though the blood pounded in his ears, the organizer’s commentary managed to reach Suga. Then he heard his own visceral cry of:

“Eight five!”

The group froze. They watched, it seemed from miles away, as Hinata looked up and scanned from the right to the left. He put his eyes back down, not seeing them.

“Is there another for eight five?”

“Eight five, here.”

“Eight five, back there will you go higher? Eight six?”

Daichi raised his hand.

“Eight six here,” came from the front.

“Mark him now,” Sugawara said. Daichi called eight seven.

“Eight seven in the front?”

“Eight eight.”

“Eight eight in the back? Eight nine?”

“Eight nine,” said Daichi.

“That’s our top,” Suga breathed to him.

“Eight nine in the front? Eight nine, nine thousand?”

The slightest pause was sufficient to make the commoners suck in a collective gasp.

“Anybody to match eight nine?”

“Please, please…” Yachi mouthed.

“Eight nine? Going once—”

Hinata looked up.

“Going—”

“Nine five.”

It was a low, crumbly voice, whose quality as much as content made every head jerk around, one way then the other. Hinata’s friends were stiff with horror, but others of the crowd grumbled.

“I did not see him arrive.”

“That is always his trick, is it not?”

“Sly old toad. Of course he would take the little red, he favors the youthful set.”

“Anybody to match nine five? Nine five, nine thousand five hundred.”

They did not hear the call.

“Nine five? Going once. Going twice. Sold. The taker—Nekomata.”

Until Hinata had been led to the bottom of the stairs, so that the fluffy head disappeared from view, none of the group moved. The first was Sugawara.

“No! Hi—”

“Suga—”

Daichi lunged and wrapped his arms around his chest, preventing the other man’s push toward the front.

“I have to—”

“No.”

“Dai—chi—”

“Suga we can’t.”

“Let—go. Hina—”

Daichi clamped a hand over his mouth. Flailing his legs, jerking his shoulders, his neck strained against the muffled hand and his eyes brimmed with tears.

Yachi had wilted to her knees, crying. Izumi and his mother bent down to shield her from the crowd as it dispersed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back

In the short time of his imprisonment, Ennoshita had already grown into a new habit of expecting food, and light, two times a day. So when the door opened for a second time far ahead of schedule, he sat up like lightning in his cell and strained his ears and eyes. Two figures came pelting down the stairs in the bright stream of sunlight. As his eyes adjusted, he saw them grinning.

“He does not recognize us.”

“The years have gone by so quickly. We must look very different.”

He stood up. “What is the meaning of this?”

Kinoshita came forward and unlocked the cell. He and Narita pulled the man out and up the steps, as he looked from one to the other with an amusingly clueless expression.

“I have been released? Or have you put all our heads under the guillotine with a rash escape plan?”

“This is how he thanks us,” Kinoshita miffed.

Ennoshita looked around them. The palace lawn was littered with piles of—belongings. Clothing, sacks, bedding.

“You were in fact released,” said Narita. “But only because we have all been.”

“What?”

“The king says that he can do without our services,” Kinoshita said. “He will be ‘liberating’ a certain number of us.”

“The certain being those who he is aware rest in more steady allegiance to Tobio-sama than to himself.”

“We gathered up your things for you, before we were escorted out.”

They led him to a heap of familiar items. Ennoshita crouched to examine his possessions. Then he looked up, and saw at the distant palace entrance an all-too-recognizable shock of bloody hair. He began to dig furiously through his things, as the others watched in confusion.

“Is the prince still at home?” he asked.

“A—So far as we know.”

Ennoshita had pulled the bottom of his shirt into a pouch, and was producing a dizzying amount of coins from the pile of his pillows, shoes, and pockets.

“Have you any money on you?”

“Yes,” said Kinoshita, “But what could you possibly need it for?”

He stood and held out his shirt. They rummaged through their pockets for a few coins and tossed them in. Then he secured the pouch to his chest and ran toward the palace. Bewildered, they followed him.

“You do not know what happened that night,” the brunette called over his shoulder. “You do not know why I was imprisoned.”

“Why were you?”

“Satori cut off our exit. The boy did not make it to his home.”

“Gods!”

“He did not go to market, did he?”

“To the very center of it,” Ennoshita said.

He came to the columns. Four guards were stationed on the stairs, with Satori milling a step below them, acting as gatekeeper. He did not seem surprised at Ennoshita’s appearance.

“No coming in once you have gone out,” he sang.

Ennoshita stretched his shirt to make the coins visible.

“Let me pass.”

Satori smiled and raised his brows. He eyeballed the money. He turned, and let his head sink back over his shoulder, before he said:

“Very well!”

The brunette released the hem of his shirt and let the coins spill onto the steps. Satori’s eyes lit.

“Ah!”

He stooped to gather them, as the three ran past.

They traveled up three levels before finding the prince.

“Tobio-sama!”

His shriek startled his companions, but Ennoshita kept running. The prince rounded on him.

“Where—have you been?” he almost hissed.

“We were stopped! We were stopped, we did not make it to the boy’s village!”

As soon as he was within reach, Tobio grabbed him by the front of his tunic.

“What?”

“Satori knew of our departure, he had a guard ready. We were taken to prison, and the boy—the boy—”

The prince’s eyes were the blue of a drowning ocean, and he could not speak to them.

 

Takeda owned the apothecary shop closest to the palace. He was cleaning shelves for a few quick minutes before going upstairs to bed. When he turned to put away the rags, a hooded figure was standing on the other side of the counter to scare him out of his wits.

“Ah—M—My apologies, but this shop is closed.”

“I need narcathelia,” said the darkness of the hood.

“Well—” he turned around and began again to straighten the shelves—“I’m afraid I can’t sell a thing of such kind to just anyone. And the cost is not one that most ordinary men can afford—”

He turned around, and found the behooded prince’s blue eyes shattering the space between them.

“Y—Your Majesty!”

“I must have the drug. Please hurry.”

“Yes, right away! I am sorry for my impertinence, my deepest apologies, I will have it right away!”

It took another quarter of an hour, by several sets of servants’ vague directions, to find the home of the buyer Wakatoshi. He used a grappling hook from his pack to scale the wall and approach the manor from the side. There was a row of three boarded windows toward the back, half covered in soil and grass. He dug this away, then used the hook again to pry loose the top of the board. It snapped across the middle, revealing half of the cloudy pane. He squinted to see through it. There was no light inside.

He reached into his pack and pulled out a lantern, lit it and set it beside him. Then he tore the rest of the board away and kicked his foot through the window. There were voices of alarm inside, but he grabbed the lantern anyway and slid part way through the opening.

His foot touched a narrow bar, and he lowered his light and peered through the top of an iron cage. A round, blinking face looked up at him. Shards of glass sparkled on the floor around the young man.

“What are you doing?” the prisoner said.

Tobio balanced himself on the bars, crawled to the end of the cage, and hopped to the floor with a thump. He turned to the small man in the cage, who had stood up and come to the front.

“Where is the redheaded boy?”

The man only looked at him for a moment.

“Out for the night.”

“Where?”

“He was sold. They don’t tell the rest of us where. As if it mattered.”

The prince turned, holding the lantern aloft. There were perhaps a dozen cages, but not so many occupied. He saw a female with brownish orange hair cropped close to her head, another female with dark stringy hair and a bored expression, and a male with black hair and scowling brows. As he turned farther he found one more prisoner, a blond man with heavily darkened eyes pressing hard against the cage to stare at him. Tobio took a step back.

“You can tell me nothing, any of you?”

“I can tell you to wait your turn,” said the first man. He had dark hair with a flame of blond in the front. “He’ll be on again tomorrow, you can pay your rights like everyone else.”

“I will not wait,” he said, forgetting to keep his voice down. “I am taking him from this hell, and your withholding information will not stop me.”

Quiet.

“You are—a friend of Shoyo’s?”

“Call it what you will.”

Another pause.

“Do you have any knowledge which will be of service to me? I will exchange it for your freedom.”

They all stared, while the first man cried out.

“I heard them talking of Nekomata. But I know nothing of that name, it is one I have never been to.”

“Nor have I,” said the black-haired youth, who reminded him in looks of the slave Iwaizumi. “I have heard of him, that he is very rich and prefers only a certain type for company.”

“None of you has been to the place he resides?”

A very low voice issued from the blond man.

“I suspect there is one who has.”

He turned to his right. Tobio marched in the direction his eyes pointed, down the row of cells, until he came to the only one whose occupant had not come forward to the bars. A young, very young face was half hidden under a lanky arm. The body was curled against a single pillow in the back corner, shivering down long legs all the way to the bare toes.

“Yama,” said the first man.

The boy continued to shake.

“Yamaguchi.”

He peeked through one eye, but closed it again with a wince.

“Yamaguchi,” said the black haired boy.

“Speak for Shoyo. Remember, the redhead, the tiny smiling one?”

Tobio put the lantern at his side, and saw the shadow of the boy sit up a little.

“Have you—been—to Nekomata?” the prince said.

“I—have,” he whispered through the dark.

The rest of them had gone deadly silent. Tobio held in his heavy breathing.

“Shoyo goes to—a—disgusting place,” the weak voice said again.

“Where, Yamaguchi, where is he?” said the first man.

“The north reservoir. The gray bricks, red hangings.”

The room flooded with light from the open door.

“What thief dares intrude here?”

Tobio flew through the dark and swung the lantern against the side of her head. The woman fell. He half caught her and slowed her momentum to the floor. Then he pulled the keys off her hip and returned to Yamaguchi’s cell, unlocked it and jerked it open. He did the same to the others.

“Noya-san, help me!”

He followed the black haired boy into Yamaguchi’s cell, and they led the shattered youth out into the light. The blond man had not hesitated to scramble to the top of Nishinoya’s cage; now he reached down to help the short-haired female up, then she turned to aid the other girl. Then the three pulled, and Nishinoya and Koji pushed, in order to haul Yamaguchi up and through the window. They filed out, with the prince coming last of all.

“Hinata is the only one to have a rescuer,” said Koji.

“Does he not deserve it?” said the older woman.

“Follow me,” said Nishinoya. “I know a safe place near here, an old friend, we’ll all go there for now to get out of sight.”

The blond man put Yamaguchi on his back and the half-terrified party moved forward, except for Koji, who stood in front of the prince feeling himself up and down. He pulled out a round object and pushed it into Tobio’s hand.

“Please find Shoyo.”

He hurried off. Tobio stared at the object, a compass. If it was the only possession this prisoner had had during all the time he was trapped, it probably meant the world to him. Tobio gripped it hard in his palm, and started north.

 

Iwaizumi stood on the far side of the moat, barely out of reach of the palace’s light. Once he stepped a yard or two across the bridge, he would shed all cover of darkness. But he was not paused here for that reason. He had looked for over a minute and not seen a guard of any sort at the front entrance. The princess had arranged for them to meet inside, but he knew that he was early for the time, and found the open way suspicious.

He took hold of his first instinct and sprinted full out toward the palace. There was no reaction, no spears or arrows or other charging bodies. He got between the two pillars and stopped, huffing in the silence and craning his neck to look around him. The entrance was empty. He stepped under the towering ceiling, gazing; it had been so long since his first view of this place that it seemed the memory came from a dream.

The sound of thumping heels. He froze, caught in the center of the open pavilion, and watched in dumb terror as a shadow came leaping from the darkness of the hall in front. It was the princess. The flow of his blood shuddered again as he took in her shocking appearance; hair in violent disarray, eyes blown out with terror, the top layer half torn from the skirt of her gown. Upon seeing him she reined in her momentum. Now Hajime ran.

“What has happened?” he cried, “What have they done? Where do you run to?”

“Hush.” She held her hands out, motioning for him to stop. He did so, then whispered:

“What is the meaning of this?”

“There is nothing the matter,” she said. “This was meant to be a diversion. I planned to come down in disarray and tell the guards there was an intruder in my room who had tried to harm me. When they left, you would be free to enter. But apparently this was an unnecessary measure.”

“The guards were already gone when I arrived. There was not a soul to keep watch.”

She scowled. “I do not like the implications which that arouses.”

She beckoned him up the three shallow steps and down the dark center hall. They turned right shortly and entered a spacious, golden wallpapered room with banqueting tables pushed up against the walls on three sides. There were two doorways besides the one they had entered.

“It is a space designed for hosting, I think,” said Akaashi. “I have found it usefully abandoned, during my stay, and believe in its power to remain so. We will talk here.”

She paced steadily away from him on narrow, muscled feet. He watched as she absently tore away the secured half of her skirt and let it float to the floor. Then she grasped her hands in front of her, and looked at him over her shoulder.

“I have a strong suspicion that the king is going mad.”

Pause.

“The news is no surprise to me, knowing him so long,” said Iwaizumi.

“Perhaps your knowledge will allow you to shed light on its roots.”

“In that your guess is as good as mine, or likely better.”

She sighed. “There is the fact that his wife does not love him.” Her head turned toward a black window. “Of course I believe this is mostly his own doing, by being what he is. By his obnoxious sense of entitlement, and the sharpness of wit which he only uses to taunt. Yet, part of me considers that the lack of love may not be the result, but the cause. It may be that it has exacerbated the effects of his upbringing. And I do not want it to play out the same way in his brother.”

She put her hands behind her back, then turned fully away from him, standing in picturesque regality.

“I was determined, and then committed, to being a good and devoted partner. I would practice giving myself to him until the giving became natural. He would have no reason to resent me, and I expected this to foster a suitable loyalty in him, so that we might carry on tolerably together. But this…was the plan before I knew you were alive. Now I do not know that I am capable of succeeding at the required task. It seems I have much to learn of the perfect selflessness necessary to my place.”

She closed her eyes to the night, for a moment.

“Your mind was always beyond your years. And despite its unattractiveness, suffering teaches us many things. I am sure you have only grown wiser. Therefore, what would you advise that I—”

Sharp footfalls echoed across the room. She spun around and came face to face with him. Iwaizumi dropped to his knees in front of her, raising his eyes no farther than her hand, which he took and covered in his own.

“Do not think of me,” he said. “Let the knowledge of my existence give no trouble to a single of your thoughts. I only need to know that you are well and in your rightful place, and it is more than enough.”

He pressed tense, fevered lips to the intricate bones of her hand. He kept his hold on it even as he hung his head low.

“I remain dedicated to you for the whole of my life, but it is not difficult to accept what your position entails, and I would rather die than to get in the way of your destiny, great as I know it will be.

“Aside from all this,” he said, “I have been defiled, in ways which can never be undone, and it would be madness and disgrace to behave as if I were still worthy of—”

The princess ripped her hand from his grasp.

“How dare you!”

He stared as she stepped back from him, eyes smoldering.

“How dare you make this insinuation to me, how dare you perpetuate victim blaming to I who knows full well the despicable amount of authority that concept holds in this society. You have not been disgraced, Iwaizumi Hajime, except in what has just been self-inflicted, by your acknowledgement of the guilt which power figures have forced on you absolutely undeservingly. Stand on your feet,” she ordered.

He obeyed. Akaashi’s eyes slid away to the side and her brow rose in irritation.

“The greatest apprehension of revealing my true identity was that you would grovel before me in this way. Given that I am virtually the same as when you knew me, it is the ultimate insult to cease to believe you are my equal merely because I am of a higher bloodline than you had thought. There is no excuse for your cowardice and fear of my title.”

“Perhaps…it was not clear to you in our younger years,” said Iwaizumi. “Therefore allow me to make it so now. There was never a time when I was perfectly easy in your presence, or—at the thought of you.”

“You always illustrated in your demeanor a certain reserve. But I once believed it to be respect. Are you to tell me now it was nothing more than fear?”

“No.” He stepped toward her. “It was respect, and remains so, if…”

He took up both her hands and held them, fisted, to his chest. He looked into her eyes, lovely enough to hurt.

“If I may still call you—Keija…”

He did not have the nerve to close the sound at the end, but let it trail away in a whisper. There may have been a change in her eyes, but he was not looking for it, absorbed in the glitter of the color. Nor could he feel the shiver that eeled from her neck down her spine.

She flexed one hand, and he released it. She took hold of his wrist and guided it to her, until the side of his hand rested on her collarbone, and his thumb touched her neck. Iwaizumi began to tremble, so that his vision of her face was not steady. He leaned. Then stopped. His eyes flinched shut. It was the princess who closed the gap.

For a long moment it was enough that their lips touched. Then he turned his head and added pressure. She accepted it. His hand moved up around the back of her neck, resting lightly as a scarf. A threatening, terrifying ache pushed up through Akaashi’s chest. She opened her mouth and breathed it into him. He opened and took the fear away. As she drug up with her lip his body burned, in a slow agony, a hellfire. The room melted to blurs as she regrouped, and brought the kiss up again. At the moment their lips split there was a high release in his pressurized head and chest. They swayed back and looked at each other.

“Hmpf.”

The princess froze, and found herself already wrapped fully in the arms of her old friend. Iwaizumi’s reaction had been instantaneous, because the sound was of a nature all too familiar to him.

Tooru was smiling, partly. He sidled forward.

“Beautiful.” His voice was just that, and sincere. “The gods, given a century, could not have written a crueler climax to my life than the two of you. It is stunning, simply put. Well—done.”

The two broke apart in preparation for defense, but only so far as she would allow. She kept her grip on his hand. It was impossible to let it go again.

 

The estate was as Yamaguchi had described it. But the prince could do nothing but stand and puzzle at the gate, because every window and every inch of roof and lawn was lit by one or another of the thousand blazing lanterns. There was no way of sneaking in, even getting inside the stone wall, without being seen by the servants at the top of the two turrets. And he was only one man, not an army that could withstand a prepared defense by the estate dwellers.

“Majesty!”

He started and lurched around. There was an army thundering toward him. How had they spotted him so quickly, and gotten through the wall at some back exit and already reached him here? Then he suddenly recognized some of the faces, and the gear they wore. This was not an enemy brigade, it was a group made up entirely of palace workers.

“As you know, many of us are not terribly skilled in following orders,” said Terushima, who stood at the left front. “And we are even worse with no orders at all! What if we had not been able to find your trail?”

Next to the blond stood his very own Ennoshita, and then Futakuchi. Lev towered at the back, grinning. Watari had changed out his tunic for shoulder plates. And was that woman his old nurse?

“Are we here to pillage or not?” called a ponytailed woman.

“For one item only,” Tobio said finally. He pointed to the large cat statue. “Get us through the gate.”

A minute later Terushima was at the front step; he knocked twice, then kicked the door in. There were screams from surprised servants, ignored as the invaders spread through the house, throwing open every door and cupboard. Tobio held a cloth saturated in fumes, anticipating that he would need to use it to stymie the prisoner’s alarm. He and two accomplices forced their way into the back room, and all eyes lit on the red-haired boy’s movements. He had been caught in the act of removing bricks from the wall; one had already been slid from its place, and Hinata was frozen in his scratching at the plaster under the next. He looked for one instant at them, then went with furious panic back to his work.

But then he looked up again, and the sight registered in his eyes. They lit, and he reached out with desperate arms to the one he knew.

The prince ran forward and grabbed him. Hinata wordlessly allowed himself to be carried out. Tobio’s companions shouted to the others, and they began to flood back into the center hall. He handed the boy off to Futakuchi, then stood at the door as the rest of the guard trooped by him, accounted for. The house emptied except for he and the owner, who was seated in a corner, shocked stiff.

“You cannot afford the cost of what he is worth to me,” the prince said.

He rushed into the night. The guards were jolting and shuddering into a tentative run down the street. He ordered from behind them.

“Back to the palace. If there is to be a fight, we will meet it.”

They hefted their spears and shouted with spirit.

 

Akaashi’s eyes passed from the exit on the left, to the exit behind the king, to the exit on the right. Iwaizumi had done the same, but there was silent despair in their faces. Tooru was only a few lengths away. And he was waiting, eyes laughing because he knew he did not have to make the effort to demand their attention. His power had grown to this height.

“Funny that we should see each other again so soon, Iwa-chan. I expected you to take a longer leave of absence from this place. I do think a fair chastisement is in order.” He folded his arms. “You left so unceremoniously. The nights were lonely, I got scarcely an hour of peaceful sleep.”

Then he loosened his arms to make a resplendent flourish to the room around them.

“I, at the very least, may say I have put forth my best. What a good show it has been. But no one can argue that it is not a tragedy. My mother died, when I was young. My father died, a slow, painful penance. My brother’s disenchantment grew to resentment of me, with the same to be said on my part. But undoubtedly the height of all agonies has been my love life. It is a twisted little triangle, as I will explain. Ironically, the triangle does not even include myself. I am the detached centerpiece.”

He stepped forward now. Iwaizumi pulled his hand free in order to step directly in front of the princess, and reached back to take hold of her wrists.

“The one I married does not love me,” said Tooru. “Nor is she the one I would have to bed. The one I would have there—will not consent to come.” There was no pretense before his hard stare at Akaashi. “And the one I do have there—” his eyes fell on the slave—“Has refused to leave, to rise in stature, has refused me what I want. He…will not love me either.”

The princess’s eyes rounded and bulged. Iwaizumi’s grip on her wrists had turned to a gargoyle’s. His lips parted, and he stared.

 

Futakuchi carried the boy like an infant, with Hinata clutching the front of his uniform and keeping his face hidden against it. They pooled inside Tobio’s chamber. The guard went to the bed and lowered him down. Hinata huddled on his knees and buried his face in the sheets.

He did not move, except involuntary quivering. The prince would not look away. After a full minute of awkward stillness, Ennoshita turned and silently waved the guards back, out of the room. He was the last to exit and left the two alone, as it had been before, seemingly a long time ago.

When Hinata finally looked up, it was in a rush, a scan over the bed, the wall, Tobio, and the balcony. Then his face contorted, and he wailed at the sky:

“Why did you bring me back here?”

He threw his face into the mattress and sobbed, over and over, wracking his gut with the effort. When it had gotten painful enough that he was motivated to stop, he lifted his head a few breathes from the bed.

“I just want to go home! All I wanted was to see my family because—they’ll still love me—they’ll still be able to look at me—and I just want to see them!”

He rolled onto his back and pressed his palms into his eyes.

“But all I have is you, who hates me because I’m disgusting!”

A cloud of hard pain passed over Tobio’s face. But he could not find any words.

“Why didn’t you kill me,” Hinata said, in slow throbs. “Why didn’t you just kill me…”

The prince wanted to tell him that he had been doing so all along. Without knowledge of it. Now he wished that the boy had been executed, and that he had never been born.

 

Tooru stood before them, keeping nothing on his face but a hint of annoyance. Iwaizumi was staring without reserve.

“You—are a liar.”

Now the king put on an openly disapproving look.

“A liar is what you have been since the first day I knew you, you have not changed, and your last lie will be as bad as your first.”

“Even if it were a lie,” said Tooru, “This one would be easier to believe, would it not, Iwa-chan? You must only take the time to consider the surrounding circumstances. Why do you think I have kept you for so long? When you were never cooperative, no good at all to me for pleasure, and never had a word to say to me in the way of companionship. You were not fun to tease. And you never rose to a challenge. Does it seem likely, then, that I kept you on for the pure enjoyment it provided me?”

“The entertainment of a sickly desire is what it provided,” said Akaashi. “To feed your appetite for cruelty, your—”

“This no longer concerns you,” said the king. “You were the object of my attention only as the fairest of fair, and as my brother’s undeserved prize. As it so happens, I am not any fonder of you than you are of me. Princess.”

Iwaizumi stepped to the side, further shielding her. She made no response at all to the serious scathing.

“Now then, do you believe, Iwa-chan?”

“I do not. It is preposterous,” he added with more vigor.

“It is no such thing, but the very opposite.” He let the full glow of his eyes flow over the slave. “When they revealed you to me, that night, the man I saw was more noble than any of high blood that I had ever known. I wanted you, I chose you. And after I had persuaded you to succumb for a single instance to your destiny, I felt I was well on my way to securing your affections. I wanted nothing more or less than those sentiments and loyalties which you had expressed on behalf of this creature—” he gestured to Akaashi—“And I was young and sure in my abilities.”

Now he picked up a smirk, and spoke in dangerous good-humor, with a higher pitch than his usual purr.

“I invest myself, deeply and totally, for all this time in you, yet four years gains me nothing. On the contrary, I am destined to find out that my slave’s fate takes precedence over mine, and that all I am granted is the full and clear view of my effort evaporating like smoke at one touch with his old lover. Do you see, now, the futility of my existence?”

“Enough!”

Hajime’s voice surprised the princess, but Tooru only grinned eagerly.

“You cannot in your wildest imagination think that I believe such a tale. I was harnessed to your wall, I was used—as a plaything…You treated me with contempt. There was not a trace of anything which you could dare call love.”

“You do not believe me a competent actor?”

Admittedly, both faces faltered at this.

“Tell me, Iwaizumi, why would I keep you on, why would I come to you day in and day out seeking a physical pleasure which was not even equal to that which I could give myself? Why,” he said, “Would I spend so much of my valued time and effort attempting to perpetuate conversation, when you refused to speak to me, when you looked on me with the very same contempt, and ignored with the same passivity, as my wife and any other, when I reaped nothing from you in all your days but the confirmation that your heart was retracting and your hatred growing deeper?

“People seem to think,” he cried, “That my talent for obtaining what I want means they need not be the least bit willing, that I need not be offered anything my whole life but should be required to tear it from their grasp, to suck dry each of you who comes into my path. But have it as you like. I am the people’s king…after all.”

 

Hinata was practically writhing on the bed. He groaned against clenched teeth, and squeezed tears through swelling eyes. While he watched, the spasms of the prince’s innards could not find any means of expression in his face.

“It’s all my fault, it’s my fault because I gave in and agreed to do what I knew was wrong, so now I’m just getting what—”

It threw a spark and got Tobio to speak. “It is not your fault. All of your suffering is the direct result of my selfishness.”

“No!” he shouted. “Don’t you see? None of it would have happened if I just left, if I just went when you said I could go I wouldn’t have been here and he wouldn’t have—got—me—”

He stifled the sobs in his chest, then rolled onto his side, turning his back to the room. The prince moved closer.

“I just—want—my mother and father and sister to hug me—and never ask me about it and never know. I just want to go home, Tobio.”

He was at the bedside now, and hearing his name, he imagined that his knees had gone weak, and he sat down next to the boy. Hinata felt the weight change and rolled to his back, with his arms spread-eagle. His eyes stayed closed.

“Do—what—Do what you want. It doesn’t matter now.”

Tobio whispered.

“I will.”

He embraced him.

The redhead could not move, and did not, at first. He only hiccupped and let out more tears, and tried to wrap the small unoccupied part of his mind around this phenomenon, that the prince was holding him.

Then he drew up his disbelieving hands and gripped the clothing at Tobio’s sides. It was real. His chin pressed hard into the broad shoulder, as every feeling poured from the top to the bottom inside him. He suffocated under the rush, unable to voice a single one, except by tightening his hold.

 

As Tooru was pacing with his hands behind his back, Akaashi watched two female servants pause at the door behind the king, look in, then hurry away.

“And then comes the climax of it all,” he said, startling them.

“My brother, my dear dear brother, comes into the possession of a boy. And I hear things.” He laughed. “I hear of their little adventures together, of how my brother is seemingly outmatched by him. But then I hear of a kiss. And another. And I think to myself it is an impossibility, there is no way that my brother, my desperately smitten but entirely incapable brother, can sway a heart so easily, no matter that it be a base and meaningless one. It could not be allowed that Tobio made it happen so easily when I had toiled for years with no result, I had had enough! He did not deserve any such pleasure, he did not deserve a reward that he had not earned. Once again as is the pattern of his life things will be set in his hand without any exertions or conditions.”

Here he acknowledged the group of a dozen servants and guards gathered at one of the doorways, afraid to come too far inside.

“I am glad of each and every presence here,” his voice soared around the room. “It would be a shame if the finale were wasted on only two witnesses. Stand, and behold your king!”

He reached to his hip, and a knife seemed to spring into his hand. Iwaizumi flinched. Akaashi stepped away from him, pulled out a blade from a fold in her skirt, and aimed it in the king’s direction. Tooru showed no concern.

“There is only one man ever above my brother, this prince of hearts. The position was previously held by an enabler, so I thought, and was determined to cut out this insufferable chain of provision at the time I seized the upper hand. But even under my determined wrath to deprive him, the prince’s will prospers. It must be that the whole universe is against me in this enterprise. So, tell me, how can I be expected to administer justice to all you worthy subjects when I have had no example of justice in my own life?”

His eyes came to rest on the two captives. The princess forced her step ahead of Iwaizumi’s and held her knife out in a hand that was obviously not untrained.

“Do not come any nearer,” she said.

He had a simple smile.

“I am not going to kill you. That would not be just. But there is justice to be found here, I am finally free to one act of it. With this act,” he said, “The true lovers will have the way cleared for their natural union, after such a long separation…My wife will no longer have to look upon the face she detests, and my child will not have my influence casting shadows over his upbringing. And the throne…will go to the good and righteous brother. The people will be free of my tyrannical heritage. All will be well, you see, because I think of the common liberty. I think of it, and give to it whatever its cost demands.”

With that, he turned the knife in his hand, gripped it with his other, and aimed it with absolute poise at his own chest.

“The means of achieving this has been granted quite easily to me, perhaps the only thing ever to be granted easily. I will bring justice to all by a single injustice to myself.”

Iwaizumi moved around the princess and came forward, reaching out with a slow hand. The king turned the knife toward him instead, raising a warning brow.

“You—cannot,” said the slave. “That is not justice, under any circumstance.”

“No?”

“You will be plunging your kingdom into darkness,” said Akaashi.

“Do not tell me deliberate lies!”

They shrank back.

“They will celebrate it. You know this much is true. Therefore, let what must be done be done, let what will come to me—come. I will spare you the sight.”

He spun on his heel. The pair rushed toward him, but the screams and gasps of horror already came from the crowd, who witnessed the shove of the blade into the center of his body, in the soft spot just between the two sides of his ribcage. And the king, with a sickly sigh, fell to the floor.

 

As Tobio held him one arm would not keep still. He squeezed around the smaller body, then felt his hand go to the back of the head, pressing in what he hoped was a protective way. Then he gripped his shoulder, and rested his cheek against the hair, as his tears grew to equal the rate of the boy’s.

Eventually Hinata pulled away, wanting to be released, and the prince let go of him. The redhead turned and crawled to the piled pillows, laying down and curling up to be alone.

Tobio stood and made his exit. As he went he drug his hand down his face, to clear away the wetness. When he entered the front chamber he unexpectedly encountered his former hunting party. They were all there, milling and presumably keeping watch. All but one of them, it seemed.

“Where is Ennoshita?”

They had gone silent as the wave of notice went through the group, and now they looked in wonder and curiosity at the prince’s unabashedly anguished face, and did not immediately answer.

“He went to fetch a doctor,” Futakuchi said. “But that was some time ago, he is expected back soon.”

The man in question now entered, and the guards parted as the prince spotted him and glided through like a ghost of himself.

“Majesty! I went for a physician, but for the longest part of my search met no one, until I crossed paths with a—a stampede of frenzied servants, saying that there was no one available, that every known name of healer has been called up to attend to the—king, to your brother. I don’t know the reason, none of them could speak clearly.”

All were silent as they watched the prince consider.

“That he knows I have a need for one, and will not consent to my getting it, is what this must be. All of you go in to the boy, I am placing full trust in you.”

The prince left the room by himself.

 

He went at a quick pace, but not a hurried one. Not until he saw, over the heads of crowded palace workers, his brother on the floor, on his side as blood pooled before him. Then he shouted, and ran.

The familiar voice was enough to jar Tooru and induce the effort to raise his eyes. He saw his brother approaching and white-hot anger sprang into his vision. He reached down, jerked the knife from his chest, and tossed it weakly from him, so that it slid out to his brother’s feet. The blood poured forth and the king fell onto his stomach.

Tobio skidded down on his knees and attempted to turn him over. Tooru resisted with a stubborn shoulder; when Tobio did not stop, he wailed from the pain of exertion.

“Cursed be the gods,” he gasped. “And damned—all of you…As if I will not suffer enough in the next life…must I begin my hell now?”

His brother succeeded in rolling him to his back, then gathered up the front of his own cloak and pressed it against the wound. He looked up at the closest onlookers, the princess and the young slave. The physicians were at the front of the circling crowd, but several yards back, by the king’s orders.

“What have you done?” Tobio shouted at him.

Tooru had tears in the corners of his eyes. His neck arched as he screamed an unnaturally high scream, a sound that blasted an agonizing stillness into Tobio’s chest. Then Tooru gritted his teeth and the tears streamed down. His brother turned to the doctors.

“Help him, now!”

“No!” came the adamant cry. Then in a choking breath “Stay—back—”

“Come here now,” Tobio hollered. “I order you.”

“Do not!” He had managed a clear shout. “I—am—your—king.”

Tobio forced a ferocious glare at him, and growled.

“What are you doing? What is this, what is the matter with you?” He turned back and pointed to the group of healers. “You, now!”

“Get—your hands—off—of me—”

The last word gurgled inside him, and the blood came in coughs out his mouth. He started to choke on it; Tobio turned him to his side and he hacked the red onto the floor. The prince looked up, starting to panic. The slave had tears running down his face. Akaashi breathed rapid and shallow as she stared. Servants were gaping, crying, stifling gasps. Ukai was there at the front. Tobio looked back at the king, as tears now came.

“Brother…”

In response Tooru pressed his forehead to the cold stone floor, closing his eyes. His moan was mixed with a cry, opening wide at the end.

“Uhhhhaaaaaah!”

He burst into desperate, haggard panting. Tobio tried to move him once more onto his back, but he resisted in spirit.

“Sto…Stop.”

“Tooru—”

“I do not want—the tears—the words…”

“Tooru.”

He tried to turn him again.

“No—”

“Tooru—”

“No.” He coughed.

Tobio pried with his wrists and got him to his side, then crouched near his face. The flawless skin was pasted pale. The lips had no smirk, were bathed in red. His eyes were shut tight.

“Tooru.”

No response; he gritted his teeth to stem the seething rage, but it rushed into his hands and he gripped the king’s head and shook it. Then he pulled back in mild shock at his action, but Tooru had opened his eyes. And he slid them, slowly, up to the other’s face. As beautifully rich and warm as Tobio had always thought them to be.

Then they rolled back in his head and he screamed and sobbed at once, sounding nothing like his age, nothing like his character. He choked violently on his attempt to take breath. A series of retches, then a gurgle as his lungs closed off, and then the noise stopped, and the shoulder sank against Tobio’s hand.

Into the silence the prince fumbled.

“Ah—Ah—”

His teeth clamped shut and he jerked the body up by its shoulders to hold to his chest, shuddering at each stifled sob. Tooru’s chin was against his shoulder; he kept the head pulled into the warmth of his neck and squeezed the hair in his fist. He closed his eyes and cried.

Iwaizumi was still watching, still crying. Akaashi removed her hand from his back and turned away from the scene, covering her mouth as she began to weep. The rest stood in stunned silence.

Until Ukai took to one knee, bowing his head in the proper mourning stance. The other servants followed, with a great staggered rustling, until the whole of them was prostrate in honor of the fallen king.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Hinata was not sure if he had slept, so he could not confirm that he had woken. But he now saw, when he had not a moment ago, a group of people across the room, with Prince Tobio at the center. As Hinata sat on the bed, staring at Tobio as if he were part of a dream, he did not hear a single thing that the prince was discussing with his servants. When the prince turned and looked at him, directly at him, the redhead, through no conscious decision, got off the bed. He was aware that he wore clothes, though he did not know what or whose, and he judged by the view from the balcony that it was late afternoon.

“Are you ready?”

The prince had spoken, and he moved his dazed eyes once more to the blues fixed on him. Hinata was uncertain, afraid. He could not answer, could not blink.

“Go home. Go to your family. Go.”

He made no move. Ennoshita, who had apparently come to his side, put a hand on his shoulder for one moment, to urge him toward the exit.

“Come, Hinata-kun.”

As his feet obeyed he continued to stare at the prince, turning his head to keep him in sight as he went by. And he paused at the doorway, still looking.

“Go,” said the prince.

Ennoshita took him into the hall, where he passed him off to Watari. Hinata followed where he was led, past the gleaming windowpanes, breathtakingly regal portraits, swirling weaves of silken carpets, until he reached the final grand entrance hall, where everything suddenly paled in comparison with the real sunlight, streaming, bouncing gayly off the white stone steps. He started to run.

It was a jog at first, with slow but determined pumps of the arms. Then as his body fell back into wonderful habit, running in this old way, he went faster and faster. He flew off the bottom step and hit the lawn at a full-stretching sprint.

“Goodbye,” Watari called, with a wave.

Hinata half turned and threw up a wild wave, and ran on.

 

The prince was walking slowly down a hall. Ennoshita caught up to him, but kept an arm’s length away, as he spoke.

“Will the council be called into session right away, Majesty? Or will you be needing first to speak with Ukai only? I will fetch him, if you wish.”

“No need.”

The advisor came through a doorway they had just passed, and joined to the other side of the prince.

“Any of the council subsets will take a day or so to stir up,” he said. “We will begin now, if you wish them to be fully engaged by tomorrow. You may start with policy proposals at any time, where even two or three of them are willing to gather. I am able to collect favorable parties for your first attempts, that will give a firm shake to any doubt you may have. It is all up to you.”

“Is that true?” said Tobio.

Ukai did not answer.

“If it really is so,” the prince said, “You must leave me be, for now.”

The pair of them had stopped in their tracks. He went on, waving a limp hand.

“We will begin the civil war…in due time.”

They watched him walk away, head low, with a style of step different than before. The servant looked at Ukai, who mirrored the move.

There was a murmur behind them for Ennoshita. He hurried to where Narita was waving him.

“We did not find them in the galley—”

“No, they were apparently moved since then, without my realizing,” Ennoshita said. “My apologies. They are all returned to the store room, with the spare armor.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Narita marched off.

 

Hinata ran, full to the brim with incredibly painful joy. His body hurt in places, but not enough to overpower the relief as his muscles were allowed to work free.

When he came to the end of the road, he stopped dead, and his eyes ran up to the door. It looked so familiar, even though it should be so unfamiliar, which gave him a queer feeling. He fled to it, then stopped again a pace away.

What lay beyond the door, he could imagine; so much of the familiar, again, so familiar that it was engrained. And so many embraces, embraces he had not been taken in by since his going away, since so many things had happened—so very many things.

Vile, disgusting, violent, harmful painful nothing to do with his family things.

And here, now, as much as he wanted to be close to them, all he could do was begin to cry, back away from the door, and hurry off in a panic at being seen.

He hid himself well, knowing this part of the city since his beginnings, so it was a miracle that with the head start he had gotten, the pair of palace workers still managed to find him.

His distress was apparent, and they approached gingerly.

“Hinata-kun.”

He jerked to attention, then frowned.

“Wha—Why did you follow me?”

“There was not a proper goodbye between us,” said Kinoshita. “And since you are the first palace guest to instill any desire for one, we knew that we should not miss the opportunity.”

“While you were with us,” said Narita, “The palace was a more interesting place than it has ever been since I arrived there.”

“But what about all the times I tried to hurt you, or run away, or raised my voice at you?”

They laughed.

“You were lively, we did not see that as a crime,” said Kinoshita.

“But you do not strike as very lively at this moment,” said the other.

His head went down, and the tears pooled until they glittered big from the setting sun.

“It is difficult, though it should not be, to go home,” he choked. “I—am different now, it seems, and I feel I do not belong. I don’t feel myself anymore.”

“That is understandable.”

“To be expected.”

Neither of their statements touched him in his lonely, silent shivering. So Narita sat down beside him on the pallet, pulled the burlap sack from his side and dropped it into Hinata’s line of vision. He blinked at it.

“This sack is full of letters, from your friends.”

“What?”

“They wrote during all the time you were away,” said Kinoshita, also taking a seat. “They sent plea after plea to the palace, hoping that the prince would read them and become repentant.”

“Tobio-sama kept the letters from you, thinking that you would lose your regard for your own people if you were led to believe they were not trying to help you.”

“And after he made the decision to do so, he also knew that if you gained the knowledge of the letters’ existence, it would sink your opinion of him.”

“But you have the right to them, and they may even help you where you are now,” Narita said. “So here.”

He brought the sack closer to Hinata’s feet. The redhead peered through the opening at the top.

“How many are there?”

“Over two hundred,” said Narita.

“Two hundred?”

“There were also a handful recovered from the house where you were rescued, which apparently arrived within the hour of your own arrival. They begged for your freedom from your buyer.” Kinoshita glanced at his counterpart. “I’m not sure if those were also added to the collection.”

Hinata opened the sack, reached in and took up a handful of the folded parchments. He studied the various handwritings on the outsides, and as some struck deep cords of recognition, his eyes began to run wet all over again.

“We—are very sorry,” said Narita. “We should have made the effort to show them to you during your imprisonment.”

“We did you a very great unkindness, that you did not deserve.”

He pulled out another handful for inspection.

“Have any of them been read?”

“Um—” Kinoshita looked at his feet. “The very first, Tobio-sama read, I suppose out of curiosity…But then he burned it with a hall torch.”

Hinata, slowly and jerkily, opened the one that happened to be on top. As he began to read it, he didn’t recognize the handwriting so much as the sure tone that was immediately apparent. The writer must be Yachi’s mother.

‘You must be aware by now that you have locked in your palace the heart of a certain common village that you do not care in the least about. The boy you believe you now “possess” has a name, a family, and a home suffering in very real hell without him. He is missed by more people than you can count, and our love for him as a whole is thousands of times greater than whatever shred of appreciation you may have bothered to acknowledge. We are asking again and again for his release. We do not ask for riches, for freedom from our daily slave labor, we want no other life than the one we have. All we ask of you is to return the one we hold dear, who could never mean as much to you as he does to us. My own family has known him all his life, we watched him grow up with our daughter and he is just like another child to us. He is a born free spirit and deserves to be, and you will one day suffer wrath for any harm which comes to him by being locked away. I hope you will consider this seriously.’

He was sobbing aloud. Before the pair of companions could say anything, he had torn open another letter. This one had a name attached to it, Tanaka Saeko, which took a moment to register. When he had finished it, he choked out:

“I knew she was kind.”

Then he reached again for the sack, and his hands hurried as they knew their destination; he searched for the familiar writing of one of his parents. But what he found first was a child’s letters. His sister had written, carefully, across the outside: Nii-chan.

He closed his eyes, and the tears fled down his cheeks. He pressed the letter to his chest and gasped against it, but did not dare to open it.

Renewing his search, he managed to locate one of his mother’s, whose curves and tails he knew better than his own. He opened it with hands already shaking; after no more than two lines he dropped it to his lap and hid his face in the crook of his arm.

It was longer this time before he reappeared. He swept the letters from his lap back into the sack. Then he turned to his left, where Kinoshita sat, and used one arm to embrace him. Before the blond could react he had been released, and Hinata turned to the right to hug Narita also. He gave a pat on his back in return. Then the redhead stood, in all his tiny awe-inspiring height, and bowed to them. He swung the sack over his shoulder and hurried away.

Hinata dropped the letters at the door, knocked twice, and collapsed into his father’s arms.

 

Seventeen days.

Tobio was dazed through most of it, hardly knowing who he spoke to and where he went. He did not leave the palace, did not feel that he ever had. But he knew when he woke, somehow, on the eighteenth day, that it was the eighteenth, that this number signified the days that his brother, and that other person, had been gone.

They must bury Tooru. But until today, whenever the fact had been mentioned to him, he had made no reply, because he saw no reason to bury Tooru. His brother would saunter in at any moment, laughing at their proposal. As if something as low and shallow as dirt could conquer him.

But there was something able to conquer him. Tobio knew it, as he thought more clearly on this day. Only one thing, that being Tooru himself.

It was not the first time they had spoken since then, but it was the first time Tobio sought out the princess, so she knew now there would be a real presence on his side.

“Good morning,” she said.

“To you as well.”

Pause.

“I am sorry to burden you with the task of prompting my mind to the present,” said Tobio.

“It is no burden, speak of what you need.”

“The—the former slave, his name—”

“Iwaizumi,” she said.

“He—You have told me, more than once, that he is—your love? That you would be together.”

“I have said we were previously engaged in a relationship of the romantic kind.”

He nodded once, and took a deep breath, touching his temple as if in hopes of stimulating his mind farther.

“That is the issue of largest importance between us, am I correct?”

“I would agree,” said Akaashi.

“I apologize for the delay. I will make quick work of my speech.” He sighed to release the tension of his shoulders. “I was once to be your husband. I was never worthy of you, if I do not now wish your happiness and do what I can to preserve it.”

“It is not a question of worthiness.”

Her eyes were coolly earnest.

“I hold no obligation over you, and anyone who could insist on drawing out my destiny is gone,” Tobio said. “Return to your home with your lover and a heart at ease. Not that you need go immediately.”

“I would very much like to attend your coronation.”

“It will be in the next few days, no later, I think.”

She nodded.

“If I may ask,” he said after a time, “What have you been doing?”

“I sit frequently with Shimizu-san. We do not usually speak.”

“She is in mourning?”

“Yes, she has retreated to a distance almost impossible to reach. Have you been to her?”

“No word or presence of mine would provide comfort.”

“Has she come to you?”

“I—believe we ate together once. By coincidence.”

Quiet.

“I go to the river each day, where my old friend meets me,” said Akaashi.

“He is not here with you? Why?”

“He is not and was never a guest here. He stays with his family in comfort. We are all in a period of recovery,” she said.

Tobio was surprised at how her words unsettled him, even after this period of comprehension had been passed through.

“You have no ill-will toward me at present,” said the princess.

“No. Why should I? We could not marry, and I would not marry, now that you have found—your way.”

“Your feelings may change in time. Is there no pride involved in being denied what you were promised? Did you not grow used to the idea of having me?”

“I did not. It seems.”

“It may be that I was more set to have you, than you me.”

“I—”

She held up her hand. “Let me make clear that I am not offended. And let me make clear again, that I have every reason to believe I would not have been unhappy with you.”

This was sufficient to thoroughly confuse his feelings, and since he could neither determine how he should act for her, he resolved to leave in quiet discomfort.

 

It could be said that he had broken tradition, or that in combining two traditions he had adhered in the extreme, by confining to the same ceremony his coronation, and his brother’s burial.

The casket had baffled him from the beginning of its mention. Tooru could be the only one who knew what he wanted, and it was the ultimate testament to Tobio’s failure that he understood nothing of real substance about his brother, and could make no guess at all of what would best honor him. Akaashi, not being asked but somehow sensing the need, had spoken to his widow, and the two women settled on the idea of imported marble, dark blue, with a cavern etched into the top, space for a beautiful solemn sea of lilies to be set, giving it a touch of natural ornateness which the prince thought fitting enough at least for those who were alive to see it.

They had chosen by chance the one day on which there was a slight overcast to mute the full power of the sun. That too was fitting. The last words and rites were given by one of the ancient temple dwellers, coming from the far dessert of the kingdom to recite the ages old honors. The casket was lowered next to their father’s. Since the moat had been dug, the tradition stood as the burial of kings on its inside bank, by which the palace would be provided with an additional protection, a circling of all its former leaders. Tooru now completed the circle; there would not be room for another addition.

 

Hinata, oblivious to the day’s events, sat at their table with Yachi. His mother came out of a bedroom.

“What should we make for meal?” she asked him. “What would you like to have, dear one?”

He hummed in consideration. “Spiced roots?”

“I am sorry, we don’t have much of any spice.”

“I could go get some.” But thinking of that prospect, he added more quietly, “Or, Father could bring them.”

“Even if he took home pay today, he could not. The market is closed,” his mother said.

“Why? It is never closed.”

She seemed grave, and avoided looking at him, until Yachi ventured to answer.

“They are crowning the new king today. They ordered the market to close.”

He pushed his chair back and stood up.

“They will crown the prince King?”

“They have done it already, probably.”

Hinata walked out of the house. His mother looked up at his shadow passing, and fumbled in her distress.

“Ah—Shoyo—Yachi go after him. Please.”

He was rushing to the east, lost in his own head as he dodged around the milling common folk. Yachi’s calls had no effect, and he remained ignorant of his follower even until he reached the fringe of the noble crowd, gathered on the city side of the bridge. He had just begun to snake his way through when he finally registered his name. He looked back and saw Yachi with his sister in tow, who had followed them from the house as part of her continued effort to keep her brother always in her sight. He came back to them, but to his friend’s surprise, took Natsu’s other hand and led them both into the crowd. As he waded through he took some care to block the little girl from jostling, but his eyes were fixed ahead, at the distinct group of persons that stood on the palace grounds themselves.

Before they had gone far, their pale and plain appearances caught the attention of the higher classed crowds. Then elbows were thrown, along with insults.

“Oi! Vermin! What right do you have here?”

“Oi, go back to the streets.”

“Unfit to be seen at such an event.”

But this same woman had to do a double take at the red hair as it bobbed away. It was not possible that that hair had a twin, and she recognized it from the last royal family event she had attended. Others were taking longer looks as well, and a whispered “Is this the very boy?” traveled toward the front almost faster than Hinata did. The outcrying ceased.

His goal was to reach the front, but upon finding a bump in the ground from which he could actually see well over the crowd, he had to be satisfied and stay put. His sister clung to his side, and Yachi held his shirttail, while Hinata looked and saw from some distance the black head which was already adorned with a gold crown. A mess of strong feelings welled up in his stomach, and together formed an agonizing, indistinguishable knot. Not satisfied by his eyes, he tuned in with his ears to what the new king was saying.

“—knowing it was never in my destiny to hold this position, I will make those efforts necessary to raise myself to it.”

To his right was Shimizu, and her son between them. Tobio’s arm seemed to move, and the onlooker conjectured that he had put his hand on the little boy’s shoulder.

“It was my brother who was prepared for this role, and it was my brother who in turn made preparations for who would continue it. I intend to adopt his heir as my own. As the first born of the first born, it is the fitting position. When the son of my brother comes to an age which proves him suited and in every way prepared for leadership, I will step down from the throne, and each of us will be in our intended place. All of you are this day witness to my claim and oath, and bear the right to hold me accountable to my promise in future. I humbly swear it, before the gods, before you.”

 

That evening the princess took her leave. Her traveling party was assembled and waiting across the bridge, Iwaizumi among them, while she stood between the entrance pillars to say her goodbye.

“I am sorry, once again,” said she, “For all the loss you have incurred while I was here. Perhaps the curse will be lifted upon my absence.”

“I am sorry,” said Tobio, “For what you suffered. I am also glad, that this place returned one thing to you which will make the trip less despicable in your memory.”

“There are many things which will make for positive recollections. Believe me when I say so.”

His eyes met hers for a moment, then flickered away.

“I have faith in you as a leader. I hope that in time your people will as well. Thank you for graciously hosting me.”

He could only answer with a tilt of the head.

“There is one thing,” she said. “I understand that your brother’s servant is likely to spend the remainder of his life locked away. Where a human being is concerned, I do not believe that such a thing will do any good whatsoever, and that there is risk in fact of its doing further harm.”

“I have been advised in the same manner by others,” said Tobio.

“In my country we have what is being referred to as a criminal rehabilitation program. It is still in an early stage, a trial period, and to one in so severe a state of disturbance I do not know how much it may impact. But if you would give your permission, I would take him with me. It may be that the change itself of scene and culture would do some good. I am aware of your strong motivation to punishment, of course. Though I could not argue against his being unfit and undeserving of free run in society, as your wife I would have discouraged you from the practice of revenge.”

“If you would willingly take him I would not argue in the least,” was his reply. “To have him far away and known nothing of is better altogether than his being here under punishment.”

“Then I will make the arrangement presently.”

He nodded.

“I value your acquaintance,” she said, “And hope this is not the certain end to our connection with each other.”

“For my part I do not see it being so.”

She smiled. “I thank you in advance for your future efforts to maintain contact. And I wish you all the best, Tobio-san, in health, in peace, in—happiness.”

“I pray for your safe journey. All the best to you.”

He held out his hand. She placed hers in it, and he bestowed his kiss.

 

In the night, about three hours after the house had gone to bed, Hinata slipped through a bedroom door. He crossed the front room to the kitchen side, slid a cup out of the cupboard and poured water for himself. He held it and listened for any reactionary noises. He guzzled the water, and listened again.

The house stayed silent. He returned to the bedroom door and eased it shut. Then he left the front door, the stoop, and the street behind, jogging in the direction of the palace.

His mind bounced quickly as his steps, but not until he was standing in deep shadow on the far side of the moat did it occur to him that people of his kind could not go surprise visiting to the palace at any time they wished. He eyed the guards, who could not see him yet, and knew that he would not be allowed entry. Deliberating but a moment, he took off at a sprint to his right, around the side of the moat. He expected a shout when he made his sudden appearance into the mingling moon and torchlight, but heard nothing. Looking far up into the night, his eyes leapt between lit windows, until landing on the one whose balcony he recognized. He jumped into the chilly water of the moat and swam blindly forward.

By a miracle he reached the opposite bank, his hand grazing stone before his head could hit it, and he popped from the surface, breathing and pushing the hair from his eyes, frantic to locate the window. There were huge black hangings draping the palace, from turrets and sills, adorning the light stone and the freedom of the arches and windows with the mood of mourning. Hinata sprinted over the kept grass to seize the bottom of a drape and tug. It was a sturdy fabric, maybe not sturdy enough to ensure it could support his weight, but enough to reassure now in his moment of rushed anxiety.

He braced his feet against the side of the structure and began his climb, hands zipping up the cloth before it could slip in his grasp. The sinew of his arms burned, but only made him hurry. At half the distance to the window, the stone of the wall transitioned, becoming too polished to grip at with his bare feet. Instead he hugged the fabric between his knees, and the upward crawl slowed considerably, dragging out the sear of his muscles. He bit his bottom lip to keep in the groans and grunts.

With about ten feet to go, he stopped to rest as well as he could, clinging to a protesting ribbon of cloth in this way. As he closed his eyes, a jolt to be feared went through his mind. He might not be welcomed by the king. The thought zapped his motivation and strength, and he felt the burn of his muscles build and build, screaming to release itself. He looked to the window, to make a last judgement of whether he could make it so much farther.

What he saw, leaning out and looking down directly at him, was the king. They were equally stiff and shocked, until the redhead gave a weak flash of a smile, and slid one hand a little way up. He smiled again, bigger and longer. The king reached down, waiting until Hinata had squirmed to within reach, then grabbed onto him.

“Do not let go,” the king said.

Together they worked his weight up to the window. Hinata gripped the sill, and Tobio kept his hold under one of his arms as the redhead brought his knees over the edge, and set his feet down in the room. The king stayed at the window while Hinata toddled away a few paces. He was grinning, the likes of which Tobio had never seen before.

Then embarrassment passed over him, and he dropped his brown eyes.

“I—I saw you today during your speaking…”

He looked up, but there had been no move, no reaction in the king.

“I started thinking, about your family not being here, and the princess going away, and I’ve been home with my family and all of our friends and it didn’t seem fair. I know you have your servants and the queen and your nephew here, but I still thought that it might be—lonely.”

He wrung his hands and dared a glance up, but when met with the same stare he dropped them fast to the floor, so that his lashes where dark against his cheeks.

“I forgot that my people are not supposed to come inside without an invitation, but I thought you might still want to see me, a little, so I thought that I should try, in case you—”

Hinata was perfectly alert to the movement when it came, and slammed his throat shut. A step back did him no good, and the next instant there were strong hands, one around his back and one against his face, and lips pressed to his. Hinata’s mind went blank, black, even though his eyes were still wide open. He couldn’t scream, his lungs burned with its fervor inside him, he tensed into that vaguely familiar aching stage of his muscles—

There was one difference in this situation; when Hinata pulled back from it, the king let go.

He panted as if he had actually run as far away as he wished to. Tobio stood in front of him with his mouth matching the roundness of his eyes, his hands pulled back to his shoulders. Hinata couldn’t help it, he went black again, with spots over his eyes. When they cleared he caught the king’s movement going away, around, and suddenly running from him, toward the exit.

“A—Wait!”

Hinata’s muscles were still stiffened, preventing him for several moments from following. He made it to the hall just as Tobio was rounding the corner to the left. Hinata gave chase, his quickest of steps getting him to the next corridor before the king could leave it.

“Wait!”

Tobio slowed, stopped. But he did not turn, even as the redhead came padding closer.

“I—I—”

“You were right to say you are not allowed here,” said the king. “I cannot be trusted to control myself, I do not have the self-command to withstand—someone of your kind.”

Hinata’s head tilted. He was still coming closer, one step landing, another step landing.

“It wasn’t so bad as that,” he said, in his tentatively hopeful way. “You were only glad to see me.”

The king finally faced him. He had a small shy smile, which made Tobio ache to come nearer, but also made him know with acute clarity that he could not.

“I…know I can’t be of use, now,” Hinata said.

“I know that I can’t give you what you want. I wish I could, because you—you do have self command, and you always held back, and tried hard at it…”

His arm came up, and he was undoubtedly wiping the tears that Tobio could not see in the semi-dark.

“That is why I wanted you to get what you wanted.”

Tobio swallowed. “It is not your duty to worry about that. My whole life I have done nothing but get what I want.”

“Not really,” he whispered. “You probably wanted a kinder brother. And you probably wanted your parents to be alive, and come to your coronation. And you probably wanted to marry Akaashi-sama, who could give you children, and be the queen. They would be very beautiful children.”

He smiled at that thought, his cheeks rising under the run of tears.

Tobio started toward him and Hinata stiffened, until he had gone past him a few steps, and said:

“Come back with me.”

He obeyed instantly, and even more troubling, followed close behind. Yet they returned to the room without incident. The king started toward his bed, an available seat, but thought better of it and went to lean against the windowsill instead. There was a cushion nearby, which Hinata pulled into place in front of him, and plopped down on. He looked up at Tobio, waiting, for what the king did not understand. He cleared his throat.

“It was brave, and noble of you, to come back here.”

Hinata was paying rapt attention.

“I do not deserve such things. So it is not necessary for you to come again.”

“You do not want me to?”

Tobio gave him a hard look. “I did not say so, I said that it is not necessary.”

“I know that, I already knew it wasn’t necessary, I came because I—wanted to visit you. Not because I want to see the palace or feel like I’m above other people because I spoke to you. I am not going to tell anyone that I was here. My family doesn’t know I left home. So, the only problem is that—you don’t want to see me?”

He fought to mute his reply. “Once again, that is not what I said.”

“So then you would like to.”

“It does not matter what I would like.”

“Yes it does, that’s the only thing that matters. If you don’t want to see me anymore, you only have to say so, and I won’t come. You are Osu now.”

“It is not that I do not want to see you,” he said through his teeth.

“I know that you are busy, so if you don’t have time, I won’t come. Or if your advisors don’t like it, I won’t come, or if the queen doesn’t like it, then I won’t.”

“None of those is the problem.”

“Then what is?”

“The thing that you are willfully and senselessly overlooking!”

Hinata’s eyes went wide.

“You are forgetting what happened to you the moment you entered this room. Just now, minutes ago. If I see you, that is the thing I think to do, and if I continue to see you it is the thing that I will do without a doubt at some future point.”

“Oh. So, then, it is that you would still see me as what you saw before. As your slave.”

“No. You do not belong to me.”

“I do not belong to anyone, that’s why I chose to come. I have a purpose now, for myself—”

“Purpose. I see,” said the king. “You come then as a representative. Political power for your people is what you hope to gain.”

Hinata’s jump to his feet jarred the king more than his raised voice.

“No! I came for you and for me, not for anyone else. I came because you’ve lost your family and your lover, I came because I’m not a servant, I’m not waiting for instructions as someone you have to order, and I didn’t come as a poor person asking you to do things for me and my family. I’m a person who you can talk to, and get visited by, someone who just—just…wants to see you.”

“…I understand,” he said, though he most certainly did not.

The redhead stared at him, a mixture of sensitivity and obstinance.

“I find the arrangement acceptable,” said the king.

A wave of tension slid off Hinata’s body, in silence. Tobio had got up from the window and wandered in his agitation; now he found himself next to a low sofa near the exit to the hall.

“While you are here for your first visitation—” he took a heavy seat—“What is it you would like to discuss?”

Hinata had followed him all the while with interested eyes, and he scooped up his cushion to bring near the sofa, where he sat before him once more.

“Why did Akaashi-sama go? I was told it’s because the kingdoms would have to be united if the two of you married, because she is queen and you are king.”

“That is correct. The kingdoms would have to merge, which would be intolerable to both. Also, it seems destiny prevented an unsuitable match. The princess had a previous connection to the—to Iwaizumi, your friend.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Apparently they had a love affair in their youth.”

“What,” he cried.

“To the point of engagement. They have been reunited, and reaffirmed their union.”

“Why didn’t I know this before? He—He will be so happy, and the princess loves him—Their children will be strong and—and—It’s a miracle…” He gave a physical jolt. “I’m sorry. For your loss of her. And I hope your children are as strong and good, and that you—are happy…”

He ventured another look at the king, and found, to his utter shock and a series of palpitations, that there was something very very near a smirk on his mouth.

“You are too full of well wishes,” Tobio said. “You should curse more often.”

“We take cursing, and swearing, very seriously.”

“That is not surprising.”

Hinata continued to look at him with passive interest. He cocked his head.

“May I ask you another question?”

Tobio nodded.

“What is it like to be king?”

He paused. “It is not what one expects…”

“Is it fun? To be the most powerful, and to have everyone listen to what you say?”

“No, it is not fun.”

He regretted the sharp retort as it caused a ripple of retreat in the guest. He reined his tongue.

“It is—satisfying, I suppose, but difficult. It requires thought, a great deal of that, and tact. And firmness, and belief in myself and those around me. I understand now, that for my—for those before me, you cannot do whatever you wish. That is not true. Your people cannot, and neither can mine.”

“You are good at those things you named,” Hinata said, “So you will be a good king.”

Tobio felt his color rising, and looked away, leaning into his palm. He cooled himself and gathered a careful voice.

“I wish to help. For you, and what has happened—to you…I wish to help the situation, for the people who suffer in it, but a change takes time, and I have many enemies in this mindset.”

He did not want to look, for fear of tears. Hinata was weak in the eyes, but only a little, and his voice worked properly.

“Well, part of it is in your power, to change…” He rubbed one foot against the other. “Part of—my—of what happened, whether that part continues is your choice.”

Tobio silently agreed; the tradition which brought the redhead to the palace was a handed down practice, but not a law. And it was only as a result of such tradition that his brother had come to believe it was acceptable to act as he had acted.

“I…Please look at me.”

Hinata did look, but Tobio wondered why he had to make his eyes so large.

“I truly did not deserve you.” After the single moment he could not bear the contact, and broke it. “I had done nothing in my life for anyone below me that would warrant my receiving someone with such strength of mind and will as you, who would dare refuse, while most others would be too afraid to resist.”

“But,” the smaller voice ventured, “I was not strong enough to refuse to the end. And then, when there were people who wouldn’t listen to my words, I wasn’t powerful enough to fight.”

How his soul was tormented as he sat looking at his brother’s victim. But his brother was dead, that was the next thought that came. He could not give both feelings, both pains, their head at this moment. It would tear him apart right before the guest’s eyes. He reached for a change of idea.

“I often forget,” said the king, “How you volunteered, to save your friend.”

Hinata’s eyes were weighted with tears.

“Do you ever think of how she might have suffered, instead of you? And it may have been a worse fate, in the end, for her. If you had not—”

“Stop.”

It was not a command, so much as a plea.

“She tells me this already,” Hinata said, “And when she says those things, it makes me wish I were dead.”

“You would do it over,” Tobio guessed, in a whisper. “A thousand times over.”

Hinata hid the wince behind his forearm. He sucked down a few whimpers, dropped his arm and kept his eyes low.

“I wish that you could meet her.”

He punctuated the pained statement with a hiccup.

“I wish that she were a princess, or that her family were nobles. You would fall in love with her. You would.”

“Is she betrothed?” the king said. “If you are of an age for such things.”

“She had an offer while I was away. And another just a week ago. She declined them…She’ll get more. But I know she feels that she owes me, and she pities me…”

Tobio attempted to lighten the aura.

“Will you dance at her wedding?”

“I don’t think I will dance anymore.”

His heart plummeted to his gut.

He said too quickly:

“I am tired.”

“I will go.” Hinata got up and moved toward the window. “Sleep well, Osu.”

“How will you get down without injuring yourself?”

“It’s easier to go down than up.”

He steadied with his hand on the frame, and stepped up on his teeny feet. Then he turned with a light smile.

“I’ll come again.”

He waited to see Tobio’s nod, then slid out of sight.

 

The next day, he was hoping to see the redhead again. But he rationalized that he would not come two days in a row, at risk of his parents discovering his night movements. And since they had seen each other yesterday, there was no need, no reason he should come.

This did not keep Tobio from sitting up, and he soon discovered that it did not keep his visitor away either. The king was seated on the floor at the end of his bed; when Hinata’s face loomed in the black of the window, he flinched, and started to get to his feet. The redhead pressed forward into the brighter light of the room, then his upper body appeared.

“Good, you are here,” Hinata said.

He hopped down from the sill, and Tobio took note of what he was wearing. Of course he had never seen him in regular clothes of his own. He had a tan colored short sleeve shirt with buttons up the front, and shorts of a matching material, that fell to his knees.

“What is it?” said Hinata. “Are you looking at my clothes?”

“Is this what you wear regularly?”

“Um, this is for sleeping…I suppose most people who visit you are dressed more carefully. Does it offend you?”

“Of course not.” He walked away and sat on the end of the sofa. “Sit down and we will talk again.”

Hinata found his cushion still in the same place.

“Will you mind if I ask more questions?”

“I will not mind.”

He smiled. Then his mouth made an ‘o’.

“First I have to tell you, about something I thought last night before I fell asleep. When I met Iwaizumi-san, he told me the story of how he was engaged when he was young, and I realized that it must have been the princess in the story! But he didn’t know she was the princess, I don’t think. Can I tell you the story? And you will be able to help me understand it.”

He nodded.

“It happened like this. When Iwaizumi-san was a younger boy he went sailing with his father, who was a merchant. But their ship was attacked by the north, and his father died, and Iwaizumi was the only one who survived. The northerners took him to their country and he lived there with a family who had a daughter, who he said was so very smart and beautiful that he could hardly believe it. And he loved her, and they were engaged, but she would always have to go away for amounts of time. Then before he got married Iwaizumi-san wished to go home and see his mother and his sister, but when he got here, he—was taken, and locked up, so that he couldn’t get back to his love. It must have been the princess, don’t you think?”

“It must have been,” Tobio said.

“But since he didn’t know why she would leave sometimes, and since he never told me that she was a princess, he must not have known that she was.”

“Akaashi-san said to me that in her country the royal children do not grow up in the palace as they do here.”

“Oh. So it must have been her. Iwaizumi-san didn’t know that he was to marry the princess. He must have been so glad to see her, after so long a time…”

“He was, I am sure.”

“Would you love someone after all that time had passed?”

The bottom dropped out of his stomach, at such a blunt question. Hinata did not stop.

“If you never saw them for four years, and you had nothing to remember them by but their face in your imagination, and the promises they made to you, would you still love them the same, for all that time, until you met again?”

“I…do not think I know that kind of love. What they had for each other must have been something beyond all other power, or they would not have come together again.” “You’re right,” he nodded.

“Anyone can see that I am inferior to the princess. Therefore, I do not know whether I would be capable of all that she is.”

“I think it is something like with a family,” said Hinata. “If I don’t see my mother for many years, I will still love her as much when I do see her again. It must be that kind of love. Only I don’t know how I would love people who are not my family in the same way.”

He pondered, until Tobio said:

“It would be useful to ask a question which one of us can answer.”

He smiled slightly. “Would you like to ask one?”

The king made a long thought. Hinata grew serious as he watched his serious consideration.

“I want to know—how you get on. How you are living now.”

He went quiet. Always when he did this it was as if his held breath sucked all sound out of the vicinity, so that it was not just he who was quiet, but the whole room, deathly still. He squinted the tears back, and his voice was decent in strength.

“I am more afraid of the dark, than I used to be.”

Quiet.

“Are you?”

He nodded. “When I come and go at night, I see more evil things in the shadows. And I cannot sleep without a light near me. I have been staying in my sister’s room…because even though she’s younger and smaller, I feel—It makes me feel protected when she’s near me.” He shrugged. “I know it makes no sense.”

“If you are afraid to come you need not continue to do it,” said Tobio.

“No no, I want to come. I get excited to come.”

“You should not go alone. I can send a guard with you.”

“I would like that. I mean, I would be grateful for that,” Hinata said. “If it’s not troublesome for them.”

“For you, any of them will be happy to do so.”

He cocked his head, and a ghost of a smile appeared.

“I want to know another thing as well,” said the king, looking away. “I would like for you to see more of the palace. There is a garden. And we may go to the pool again. If you would like to do things like that.”

The smile came again. The redhead nodded. “Yes, I’d like to see. I would very much! It doesn’t have to be now, though,” he added. “When I come another time.”

The king nodded.

“What will you be doing tomorrow?” he said.

“Attending meetings, I suppose.”

“You don’t sound like you want to attend meetings.”

“The majority of time is spent in others holding arguments without regard to my opinion on the matters.”

“How can they not listen to you, as their king? Can’t you send them out if they don’t?”

“I am more than twice as young as most of them, and lack the governmental training that my—that is necessary to holding credibility among them. To put it shortly, I am not at present extremely fit for my position.”

“I know you will learn quickly.”

“I will try.”

“It’s the cold part of the night,” the redhead noted.

They grew still, feeling the breeze ease over their skin, with a beautiful peace because of the fact that they could not hear it.

“I’ll go now. But before I do, would you like to hear how I got my name? You know that it came from a dream, but I’ll tell you what the dream was, and then you might believe they are real.”

To this, Hinata saw for the first time a genuine smirk, which made him all but gasp out loud.

“I suppose I will hear.”

So he began, smiling wide.

“Either your mother or your father can have the dream. My father had it for me, a few days before I was born. He fell asleep in the fields early in the morning, when he was supposed to be working. In his dream he saw the river. It was flowing fast, but not with water. With liquid gold. Seeing gold and bright colors in the dream means that the birth will be a happy event, that things will go well,” he explained. “Seeing blues and darker colors means that there will be some hardship or sadness. Maybe the birth will be difficult for the mother, or the baby will cry often and make you worried, or something like that.

“My father was very happy to see the golden river. He went up to it and picked up some gold with his hands, and it was like clay, thick and sticky. He tried to form something with it, but the shape wouldn’t come out. So he gave up. Then all by itself the clay became a golden bird, a tiny but strong and fierce falcon, made of gold but alive. And it chirped at him and stood on its feet in his hands.”

The king’s lips were parted and void of breath, and under his dark hair the eyes were pulsing, like the tide of the sea.

“And do you know of that feeling in dreams, when you are being told to do something, but nobody has said it to you and you can’t speak it to yourself? You just know, can feel, what you have to do. My father knew he had to let the bird go. He was holding onto its feet so that it couldn’t fly away, and he wanted to keep holding it. Part of him wanted to keep the bird for himself. It was so happy and so beautiful and funny to look at, he says. But he did let it go.”

“He did?”

“Yes, he let go of its feet and the bird flew up into the sky, and he said to it ‘Fly higher. Fly to a better place.’ And it went up until he couldn’t see it anymore. Then he woke up and hurried to finish work so that he could go home and tell my mother about the dream. And the words that he said is what they took my name from. ‘Shoyo’ means ‘flying heaven’ in the ancient language, the language of the gods. So that is how they chose my name.”

His smile grew as he looked at the king’s face.

“Now do you believe in the dreams?”

“I—You have a sister, you have said so. What is the story of the dream for her name?”

Shoyo laughed. “That would take twice as long to tell you. I have to go, for now. May I—Would there be a guard who could take me home tonight? If there is not, on such short notice, it’s all right.”

“I am sure there is someone outside my chamber at this moment.”

He walked with Hinata out to the hall.

“Futakuchi-kun.”

The brunette tried not to look surprised by Hinata’s presence.

“Yes, Tobio-sama.”

“Accompany Shoyo through the village, back to his home. You must be seen as little as possible, and you are not to speak to anyone of his being here.”

“Yes Majesty, of course.”

The king gave his visitor a last look, strong but unintelligible, then returned to his room.

“Come, Sho-chan,” said the guard.

After only a little walking Hinata could feel eyes on him; when he could bear it no longer he looked up. Futakuchi was smiling.

“How have you been, Little Red? We have not seen you in this place for some time.”

“I am fine. How have you been?”

“Well.”

“Do you—Is it—Are you willing to serve your new king? I mean, do you like him,” Hinata said to the ground.

“I suppose I do not detest him.”

Quiet.

“We are not to be spotted, hm? That is an odd request. You are making secret visits to the king, what for?”

“To talk.”

“Ahh, yes. I recall that you speak particularly well with your body.”

“Wh—What? No, that is not what I meant! We only talk, we do not—I am not—I no longer act as his slave.”

“I did not say slave. You are more his private dancer now.”

“No! We only talk, with words, he has never…He will not treat me that way anymore.”

Futakuchi gave up his teasing manner.

“Why do you come so late at night?”

“He is not busy at night,” said Hinata. “And my family doesn’t like the king, no families do, so I do not want them to know that I come.”

“What do you and the king speak about?”

“That’s not for you to know.”

They left the palace steps.

“Is your home far?” Futakuchi said.

“A little far.”

They went on in silence, until Hinata, playing with his fingers, said:

“May I ask you something?”

The guard looked, then smirked.

“That may prove interesting.”

“How do you grow so tall? All of the guards I see are tall and strong. Do they choose you because you are that way, or do you have to become that way because you are chosen?”

The brunette bit on his smile to keep himself from laughing.

“They choose by those traits,” he answered. “They also value good sense, but will take strength by itself when it is available. Then they train much, and educate a little, and they have their guard.”

“Were you born in my class, or higher?”

“My family are lesser-known nobles. This is where most of the guards come from, they pull only those of miraculous strength from your people.”

“I see.”

Twenty minutes deep, they stepped onto the end of a crudely cut roadway.

“This is the street where my family lives. I will go alone from here. Thank you for—”

“I do not think I should let you go on alone. My orders where to take you home, and if you do not make it, I know there will be no end to my consequences.”

“Oh. I guess it is possible that something could happen…”

When he moved forward again, Futakuchi followed him. They reached the tiny house, the crumbling stoop, and Hinata turned and bowed silently. He slipped through the front door.

 

Ukai met with the king in a quiet wing.

“You have numbers prepared, I assume,” said Tobio.

“Yes.”

“By your face, they must be poor numbers.”

“That depends on your own judgement.”

“Give me the main figure.”

“The number who has chosen to leave their service behind,” Ukai said, “Is upwards of sixty-five percent.”

The king let it sink in, then replied:

“That is not unexpected. It is the reason I provided the choice to them.”

“Of course. There is now plenty of room for rebuilding.”

Tobio nodded.

“I have the full reports, the names, documented.”

The advisor offered a group of parchments, but they were waved away.

“Is that all?”

“No,” said Ukai. “What I think the more pressing matter, has nothing to do with the figures.”

“Go on.”

“There are many ancient laws which have nearly been forgotten, as it is so long since they have been called into question. It has come to my attention that a certain law exists, the only one of its kind, concerning who it is the king may take up in a formally binding marriage.”

“And this law states what?”

The king had moved to look out a window, as he tended to do when discussions turned very serious.

“If you claim one as your heir who is not your own offspring, as you have to this time implied that you intend to,” said Ukai, “And if you make this claim during a time in which you are currently unwed, the law states that you may not remain in the unmarried state. If you were bound you would be unable to claim the nephew as your successor, as there is the potential for producing your own heir to usurp his position and create ill feelings within your family. If you remain in your current unbound state, the law requires that you shall be wed no less than sixty days after the declaration, and if you have no chosen partner by the end of that time, you will be forced to take your heir’s mother as your partner. You will be forced to marry—”

“My brother’s widow.”

Quiet.

“If you find it an unappealing prospect, there is only the matter of finding a more suitable union. With fifty days remaining it may prove relatively easy. That is the first way it may be gotten around, by your marrying and producing your own heir. But there is a second way also,” he said, lower and more carefully, and paying close attention to whether Tobio noted the adjustment in tone. “You could avoid the potentially unwanted union and keep your declared heir, if you were to take as your partner someone who it is guaranteed will not bear you a child.”

Tobio was still, silent, as he looked out over the city.

“I see no forthcoming opportunity for either of those,” he said low. “I will have Shimizu-san, if she will consent to have me.”

“Ah…Very well. Should I make it known to her, or would you prefer to speak to her yourself?”

“Explain, and bring me her reply,” said the king.

“Yes, as you wish.”

 

After his second visit, Hinata did not reappear for five whole nights. Tobio admitted to none of his anxieties, but each day found him more and more agitated and short with his staff. On the sixth night he bitterly reasoned that it would be no different, and resigned himself to his bed without any waiting at all.

But it had only been a minute when he heard scratches, scuffles, then huffs, and a grunt, and more huffing. He was straining so hard to listen that by the time the soft breath of voice murmured out, he heard it like a signal bell.

“Osu?”

He swung his feet to the ground and jerked back the curtain, in time to see Hinata jump out of his skin. He lurched toward the window, preparing to escape. Tobio was about to rise from the bed and come toward him, but pushed himself back on his behind, knowing he should give him a moment.

“I did not mean to frighten you.”

“I know,” he panted. “I’m all right.”

“Did you climb your way up again?” He stood and approached. “It is not necessary for you to do that anymore. I have spoken to the guards, you may use the front entrance.”

“A—Yes.” He nodded.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” the redhead announced. “I have had to help my father at his work, they are behind and he is not as quick as he used to be. And I have been training my sister to work the fields, since I will have to do my own share soon, and she will have to help our father instead of me. When I come home for dinner I am tired.”

“I suppose…that is an acceptable excuse.”

“I’m sure you have finished lots of work as well, with more sleep when I am not here to keep you awake.”

“Unfortunately that is not how it seems to have played out.”

Hinata laughed to himself.

“Although one thing has been improved upon in your absence,” said the king. “I have ordered the garden to receive more lighting, so that it is as pleasurable to view at night as in the day. Would you like to see it?”

“Yes, I would very much! We can go now?”

“It is waiting for you.”

Hinata followed him through the connecting hall and into the front chamber. Then the king said:

“I want you to be at ease here, while you are away from your work, and the heat, and other potentially distressing circumstances. I will tell you something which you will likely find comforting.”

Hinata slowed his steps.

“Um, all right.”

Tobio stopped and turned to him. “I have devised what I believe is a good strategy for overcoming myself.”

“Over—coming yourself?”

“Yes. Your small stature, round facial structure, and soft features have always given you the potential to look childlike, innocent. By focusing on these aspects, I will be able to train myself out of my old habits, and no longer put you at risk of attracting that other kind of reaction from me.”

“W—W—What? I don’t want to look childlike,” he cried, “I’m older than you are!”

Tobio, alarmed by the flare of anger, fumbled on words until Hinata spoke again.

“I’m of age, I’m supposed to be looking for a partner, a match to marry, why would I want to look like I’m a small, soft—boy?”

“I—did not mean—”

“I don’t want to look innocent, at least—not to everybody…You didn’t used to see me that way.”

“Yes,” he snarled, “And that brought you to great harm!”

“That was not because of how you looked at me. I am not a boy, though maybe I do look like it or act like it, but I am not. I—I want to be—to have—have somebody value that in me, if they can see it. You are the only person I’ve known who has seen it, so saying you will not anymore—bothers me.”

“I do not understand how it should bother you,” said the king. “I am doing it to protect you from—”

“I don’t need to be protected! That is all they want to do now, to protect me from everything.” He blinked the first heavy tears out. “But all that does is remind me that I’m different, I already know I’m not as brave anymore, and I don’t smile as much, and that I’m afraid to talk to strangers when before I would talk to anyone. I know all that, but that doesn’t mean I am asking everyone to help protect me from it.”

He sniffed and wiped his arm across his cheek.

“The thing I really need help with—” he sighed—“Nobody can help me. Not even the king.”

Tobio did not argue, but waited, though still sure in his mind that he would be able to prove the statement wrong.

“I can’t get married. I am supposed to be at the time when someone finds me attractive, and our families meet and talk about if it will work, and then I am supposed to marry them and have all my friends come to my wedding. But I cannot get married. No one will have me, because I am impure.”

Now he bit his lip, and when he continued his voice shook much more.

“You remember, how I explained it to you. We save ourselves for a special person, and they save themselves for us. But I—Everyone knows what happened, so everyone knows that I don’t have what they all have to give away, so if they were going to make a vow with me, it wouldn’t be fair.”

He sniffed, and cried more, and pressed the back of his hand over one eye, until Tobio said:

“What is not fair is the interpreting of this custom in such a way.”

Hinata looked overtop his arm, with a suspecting frown.

“It is wrong, and more than that, a lie, to say that you are not pure in a way which implies that you were given a choice in the matter. Say what you will of your people and their honorable traditions. That is an ill of the society in which you live.”

“It’s not their fault that it has to be interpreted that way,” Hinata said. “You are pure or you are not, you are touched or untouched, the way it happens does not matter since the result is the same—”

“No! No, that is wrong. The way it happens matters a hundred thousand times more than the result, because if you have no choice and no influence on the result it is the same as being born one sex or another, one class or another—If your gift is taken from you, it was not used as a gift. Whatever was taken from you then was not your gift, and your gift remains with you.”

Hinata stared, then wiped his eyes again, and turned his shoulder.

“You are only making me feel worse.”

“I own to all pain I have caused you,” he replied. “But I will not take blame for the suffering your belief system brings on you. If there is no one who would sacrifice a tradition and their pride in honor of you, then you live among a people which is undeserving of you.”

Hinata shuddered in a few breaths, wiped his cheek with his wrist, and said to his face:

“Even if that is true, it makes no difference, because I will live among those people forever. It is the only place I have.”

He looked down, and clasped his hands together.

“Do you want to go to the garden?” the king said.

“Maybe another time.”

After that, there was nothing to do but leave Tobio in the hall, while he moved down the left.

“They hate you as much as you hate them,” Hinata said without turning. “But I don’t hate either of you. It is unfair.”

The king watched him walk farther. Then he said

“Speak to the guard at the front. They are expecting you.”

A small nod in reply.


	16. Chapter 16

Even in absence the boy was effective at tormenting him. If he pictured the purity, the piety, and the friendly innocence of Hinata, the pain of all that had happened to him became too great to bear, and he felt he should throw himself from a balcony. Yet if he made the attempt to refute this image with one of that dancer, the embodiment to him of sensuality and all that was attractive about a human body, he could not do this without choking on waves of immense guilt.

To take himself out of his own head, he called a servant.

“Kinoshita.”

“Yes Majesty.”

“Find out whether Shimizu-san is in the palace, and whether I may speak with her.”

“Yes.”

He came back much sooner than Tobio had been prepared for.

“She is in the west wing nursery with her son. Michimiya-kun told me she will welcome you as a visitor.”

“I—Good. I will go, then.”

He walked stiffly from the room.

The nursery was a place he had not been to since he was quite young. Shimizu watched his entrance from her place across the open room. His steps faltered as he looked between the napping boy and the mother. The spectacle was strange in a way that moved him.

“I—wish to speak with you. To ask a question, that is. If you will hear it. If I must come later when he is not asleep, I will do so. Or I will not come at all, if you do not want me to.”

With her perfect patience, she left a few long seconds before her soft reply.

“Of course I will hear your question. We may speak more openly outside.”

So he turned and went back out, and when she arrived she waited for his question.

“It is not concerning what is to occur between us,” he said. “Nor is it anything to do with you, or particularly to do with me.”

Again she waited, as he silently chastised himself into calm.

“Do you remember the—the young man I chose at my coming-of-age ceremony?”

“Hinata Shoyo. Of course.”

He took a moment to be surprised.

“Yes. He makes visits to the palace, not for any purpose but to speak with me, and act as a companion of sorts.”

“I see,” she said. But as he scrutinized her face, he suspected that she had already known of the fact before he told her.

“I have many concerns with this arrangement, one being that our previous interactions were of a different nature and a different intent on both sides. I wish to protect him from any danger by—purging away my less than upstanding thoughts. But he has said to me that this displeases him. He says that being of a certain age, he has a wish for someone like myself to see him in a—desirable way, despite the fact that I am sure he has no wish for the desire to be acted on. Which is something I do not understand.”

Fearing he sounded foolish, he hurried to explain further.

“It is not that I have stopped seeing the potential in him for—to be desirable. But the only way I know to prevent some atrocity on my part is to stop these thoughts. It has made him upset to hear my plan. More than that he should think me despicable for continuing in this mindset after all that has happened. That I do not understand either, why he would wish for anyone’s desire at all, let alone mine.”

“He is at a critical time,” she said. “The worth he places on himself has been lessened by his suffering, so he is in need of validation as to his desirability by others, at the same time that he is probably repulsed by the thought of anything remotely sensual.”

He blinked. “I see.”

“What is the answer you would like from me?” she said, with half a smile.

“I—What action should I take to aid in his recovery? I know I should not touch him, or mention anything which would remind him. I thought of taking him to see the garden, and the pool that he previously enjoyed, and showing him things he has probably never seen. But what would you advise that I do?”

She smiled.

“You have answered for yourself. I approve of those things. And an idea of that sort could only come from a heart such as you have, Tobio-sama.”

“A—Please do not—call me by that, we are at least equals, and you are the elder…”

She still smiled.

“You do not have to touch him, you only have to let him be touched. In his own time, and his own way.”

He nodded, slowly.

“Yes.”

And the king bowed.

 

Hinata skipped only one night’s visit after the previous catastrophic quarter of an hour; this time he was waiting in his seat for the prince to come. He sprang up, with that remarkably fast reflex.

“Hello!” His hands wrung. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

“Are you still angry with me? I planned to stay away longer, to make sure it wouldn’t be so, but I—then I came anyway. I’m not angry with you.”

“I am glad you are here.”

In a moment it had registered on his face.

“Would you like to see the garden? And we may talk there like usual.”

“Yes, please!”

Tobio first went to his bedside, to an iron stand with hooks, and reached to his neck to undo the light cape of unassuming grey.

“What have you been doing today?” Hinata said.

“I went around the city to observe the progress on various projects.”

“Oh. I might have seen you somewhere, if I had been looking.”

“The projects were not—in your area, likely.”

“No. But even though we don’t get new things, my parents call it a blessing, because families like mine cannot afford the taxes it costs.”

“I see.”

He was struggling with the clasp of the cape. As his movements became more agitated Hinata frowned at him. Tobio looked up to say loudly:

“I do not need help.”

Hinata’s brow went up.

“I wouldn’t offer.” Then he smirked. “I am too small of stature to be of use in this situation.”

His glance danced the line of a glare. “I suppose so.”

When he had finally succeeded in removing the cape, he flung it at the stand and took off for the exit. Hinata came to his side.

“What projects did you see?”

Tobio spoke simply of the matters until they reached the three steps which took them out from under the palace’s roof. The change of scene was so abrupt as to be magical. Hinata couldn’t have kept back the reaction of his face even if he had tried. His brows arched and leapt up high under his hair, and his eyes went so wide that the lashes pressed dark against the skin below and above. He spun in every direction.

“This is not—a garden…This is a jungle.”

The pots and beds were hardly to be seen, as the growth spilled up and out and over everything. Flowers melted together with their neighbors of different colors, and thin curly vines wound along every tree branch, painting all the brown to green. Yellows gave way to purples which gave way to oranges, on one petal as big as a hand. Carpets of moss hugged every stone and ceramic. Paper-covered lanterns hung from tall iron stakes, lining the edges of the narrow path.

“It was commissioned by my mother. A certain portion is kept as she liked it, in her honor. The rest is grown to Shimizu-san’s preferences.”

Hinata made a childish skip up the path and held out his arms expansively.

“Gwaaaah! It’s beautiful just the same way as Shimizu-san is, and I’m sure your mother too.”

He was grinning now.

“Everything is so big, why do you have everything about your homes so big? I didn’t know colors like this existed as real colors, not just in our imagination. How many kinds are there?”

Tobio was going to answer, but then only shrugged.

“So—pretty…” He pointed along their path. “How far does it go?”

“It is a fair walk.”

Hinata started down it, but made so many stops that Tobio hardly had to follow.

“They’re so beautiful…Even more beautiful than the clothing you wear. We always envy how you can get your colors so bright, with the dyes, and clean water to wash them in. But I don’t envy you all that much, my favorite colors are the natural ones. You know, people will imagine the sun is very yellow, but I like how it really is, pale and quietly happy. But my mother says she can’t enjoy more dull colors because she sees my sister and I so often, and our hair.”

The king had been thinking this very same thing, how his companion blended with the blooms, but bounced along, as if one had come wonderfully to life. Hinata had paused at an exploding bush of bright orange blossoms; as he inspected them closely, Tobio came nearer to his side.

“These are called Ra’s Children,” the king said. “Because of—”

“The color, yes.”

His hair matched so well with them, even to its tufty, uneven texture. His eyes were the brown of river earth, but in their marvel they glimmered, like soil overturned to reveal its secret flecks of gold. The glow matched the low light above them.

Hinata moved away without a glance in his direction.

“This is incredible! How they grow so strong even in the heat. It seems like magic.”

He was beginning to feel that familiar itch of pain, over how much appreciation one person alone could have of something.

“I know some of my friends would love it. Sugawara-san and Yachi and Yachi’s father, he loves things that grow. Yachi does too. And Suga-san always brings flowers home when he can, because his parents cannot leave the house much anymore and it makes them feel good to see things like that.”

“Take some to them.”

His head turned fast.

“You may pick from any,” Tobio said. “Take the biggest and most beautiful of everything. Bring them back to show your friends.”

“No, I couldn’t do that, I don’t want to stop their growing. They are too big and perfect. And, anyway, if I did that they would know I had been here. It is easier for me and for you if nobody knows. Isn’t that right?”

He nodded, resigned. “It is so.”

Hinata inhaled with vigor.

“The air is so cool and fresh. It’s hotter in the day, I suppose, but it must look like heaven when it’s all lit up with the sun.”

“If one day you come during daylight, you will see its full glory.”

“If I do…” He did not look down, could not bring his eyes from the scene, but his gaze went a little distant. “If I came very late and stayed until dawn…But my parents would know by then that I was gone. And others might see where I came from. But it’s all right. This is something I only thought I would see in dreams.”

Then he smiled wide without opening his mouth.

“Did you come here to play as a child? Were you allowed?” said the redhead.

“My brother and I used to—”

He dared not look at Hinata. But the other’s voice was insistent as much as it was soft.

“Used to do what?”

“We would race…along the paths…He would take shortcuts and try to get me lost.”

“I see.”

Hinata had no power to stop the atmosphere from sagging heavily into sadness. It enclosed them like a heavy fog. He spoke again, without trying for the former elated tone.

“Do you come now, much?”

“It is good for solitude. Though, most of the palace is also good for that now. Because many of the guards and servants have left,” he added.

“Why?”

“They preferred to return to their old lives. Or, their real lives I suppose. They were given the choice, because if they do not want to serve me no good will come of forcing them.”

“Yes…”

As the quiet went on, it became apparent to both that the meeting was not to end as it had begun. Tobio waited to see whether Hinata might start walking the path, or whether he would move back in the direction of the palace. He had done neither before they heard something making an approach, from deeper in the garden. Hinata was alarmed and started back, while the king strained to hear and identify the footfalls.

When it was the queen who slipped through the low-hanging foliage before them, he was as perfectly shocked as the guest, who snapped his head around to look at him. She wore a magenta top and skirt connected by a string of gold jewels which hung against her bare stomach.

“I hope you will pardon my intrusion,” said the queen. “I do not often have company in the garden, and I heard your voices, faintly.”

Hinata looked again between the two of them, rooted to his spot in the middle, lower lip twitching as he gaped. Shimizu was smiling at the king in the mild way that always made his insides clench. It was necessary to speak.

“Shimizu-san. It is a pleasure to see you. This is Hinata Shoyo, a friend.”

Hinata was on the verge of sputtering out some respects when he saw that her mouth had opened. He slapped both hands over his own.

“It is good to finally be introduced to you,” she said. “All are welcome guests to the garden, I think the more who see it the better. Do you like what you have seen?”

He nodded once, merely reactionary, then nodded rapidly to assure her of his good opinion.

“How is your family, Hinata-kun?”

“A—Ah—Very well! A—How is yours?”

“Smaller. But getting stronger, I think.”

For a moment he could not muster a response. Then he nodded eagerly.

“Thank you very much for asking,” he said, “It was very kind of you. And I—I am glad to hear what you said about your family, it is very good.”

She nodded.

“Forgive me for the intrusion, I’m sorry! I will go now, but I—Thank you for allowing me to—see your garden, and—”

He looked at Tobio, who could offer no help.

“I am grateful I got to see it. It’s so—It is so beautiful. It hurts almost,” he smiled, peeking one eye up from under his bangs.

“If you are leaving,” she said, “Please allow me your hand, that I may give the proper goodbye.”

“Ah—Ah—”

He stuck out his right with the palm up. At her first step forward he actually stepped back, then looked in fear at whether he had offended. She continued her approach, then took his hand with both of hers, turning it over.

“I wish you a safe trip to your home, and that you sleep soundly tonight.”

His mouth hung open uselessly. She bent at the waist and touched her lips to the back of his hand. Then she returned it gently to his side, and retreated.

There was no movement from any of them, until Hinata choked and sucked in a breath to quiet it. The queen turned and walked back the way she had come. Tobio watched random shivers run up the redhead’s back, until he spun around and stepped within a few inches of the king, having lost track of their distance.

“I can get to the front myself,” Hinata said. “Goodnight!”

He hopped up the steps and into the dark of the hall.

 

One afternoon Tobio entered an empty council room to meet with his advisor.

“Reports,” he said at the sight of Ukai.

“I am afraid all I have is what you do not want to hear.”

“Tell all.”

“Hanamaki and Matsukawa-san have refused to approve the proposal.”

“Curse them, Shimizu explained that it would be implemented in parts, over several years, so as not to affect them in a way they cannot manage. What more can they question about?”

“They only need to dislike the policy, which you know they do, and even without a specific worthy question it will be enough for the inquisitors to judge their objection valid. The inquisitors attend many of their parties, and their favor is won as simply as that.”

“Nothing can be actually achieved,” the king spat.

“Not without first undoing all the knots of hypocrisy they have tied under the establishment while it was inattentive. Maddening.”

“Yes, for you, who has seen it happening for years but had no one willing to listen.”

“There are worse things I have pretended to be ignorant of,” Ukai said. “Unfortunately.”

Tobio suddenly eyed him. Ukai inquired only in expression.

“How long will it be before your ability to perform your duties stops being sufficient?” the king said.

“That I do not know. Unless I were to be hit with illness, I expect at least a decade more.”

“A decade more in the same position?”

“Is there another position I am not aware of?” he said slowly.

“I always thought you had a fondness for teaching.”

“You thought correctly, of course.”

“If you were to hold a tutor’s place, how long would you remain capable?”

“I—do not know. Possibly the same. I was not aware you were considering a rearrangement.”

“It came to me just now. You would be effective as a teacher, and if that is also what you prefer, it is the logical way.”

“I would prefer it if it were a possibility,” said the advisor.

“If this is what you desire, I will allow it, with a condition.”

“Yes, Majesty, name whatever you wish.”

“If you agree to train the one who will be in your place, you may have your retirement from that position, and take on the education of my nephew. I refuse to stop believing that four out of the five good qualities I have are because of your mentoring. I wish for him to be in your hands.”

“I—Of course it would be an honor, if I were assigned such a task.”

“I will make arrangements for your successor, and after you are done with them you may begin with the heir.”

“That suits me perfectly, I am at your command.”

Then Tobio made to leave.

“But—”

The king turned back.

“While I am still in the place of giving advice,” Ukai said with a smile, “I must warn against being the kind of ruler who aims to please others. Only because I do not know how to advise such a ruler, nor how to train another to do so.”

“It is more likely that the only thing you do not know how to do is recognize my selfishness,” said the king. “It suits my need as much as your fancy.”

 

The river was not as frequently populated now as it had been, partly because of the start of weedy season. Many citizens of lower status took the opportunity to brave their journeys in the daylight. Hinata had come today with Yachi and Izumi, but as they stood behind and discussed the dividing of the washing chores, the redhead crouched at the river’s edge and looked at what he could see of his reflection through the murk. He swirled the surface of the water with one hand.

“Hinata. Hinata-kun?”

He turned, pushing up a little smile. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

They exchanged a look, and they were serious, though timid. He dropped his smile and cocked his head.

“Hinata-kun,” said Yachi, “My father…You never talk about what you’re feeling, and of course we know you have your reasons, but my father said that we should encourage you to say anything you need to. Not if you don’t want to, of course, but—we could listen. We’re still your friends.”

Her eyes went down, just as Izumi’s already had. Hinata’s heartstrings twinged as he looked at them. He turned back to the water.

“There is something I want to say.” He looked at them. “Will you hear it?”

They nodded.

“It is not how I thought—Or at least, how I hoped it would be,” he said. “It is not much like a cut to the skin. A cut closes up, and heals shut, you know. And after a while it’s gone, actually gone. And you never know it was there.”

He puffed his cheeks and exhaled.

“This isn’t like that. It doesn’t fade, even while I wait for it to, and even while I count how many weeks I’ve been at home. It doesn’t hurt the same as at first, but it’s still—It stays open. It’s all right that you don’t understand.”

His face was not despairing, but his friends’ were, and Izumi was almost certainly about to cry.

“Good morning!”

The trio looked up the slight slope of bank and saw two young men approaching. The grey haired one dropped what he was holding to wave.

“Sugawara-san!” the two boys said at once.

“Yachi, Izumi, Hinata-kun, it’s good to see you.”

He and Daichi came down to the water, baskets in hand.

“We’ll help you with your washing,” Hinata said, tailing them.

“I’m grateful for the kind thought,” said Sugawara, “But we like to take our time with our washing. We use it to have good talks.”

“Nice to come out during daylight, is it not?” said Daichi.

“Yes,” said Yachi.

“The river can be appreciated more.” Sugawara set down his basket and waded out to his knees. “Oh, Hinata-kun,” he said over his shoulder. “Seeing you reminds me of something I heard, yesterday. A piece of gossip.”

“What did you hear? From who?”

He laughed. “One answer at a time. From several people of the neighborhood. They said they had heard it from other friends, who claimed it came straight from the palace.”

“What did it have to do with Hinata?” said Izumi.

“Well, the rumor is that while you were at the palace, Hinata, you fell in love.”

Yachi’s gasp made a hiccupping sound, while Izumi exclaimed to heaven, and Hinata said:

“I—wha—I what?”

Sugawara had a small apologetic smile.

“It is being said that you fell in love with the prince, the one who is now Osu.”

Daichi wore a frown. “What a thing to say about him, after everything.” He shook his head. “The world’s unkindness has been taking me by surprise lately.”

“No no, I don’t think it was meant in unkindness, at least not by those I heard it from. I would not have told Hinata if I had thought it was meant that way. I wanted to know whether he could confirm it, or confirm some circumstance which might have been mistaken and started the rumor.”

Hinata had been continuously shaking his head; now that they all looked at him, he searched for words.

“It—It is not true, it’s not true at all! I don’t know who would say something like that, or why they would think so, because it is not true in the least, not at all, how could I—Why would I—Love the prince who had me taken from home? Do not believe what they say, Suga-san, it isn’t true!”

“Oi oi, Hinata, calm down. Of course I didn’t believe it, I would not unless I heard it from you. But, you cannot think of anything that would have happened to make them think you were in love with the prince?”

“N—No, no no there was nothing.”

“I thought maybe you tried to pretend you had feelings, so that you would be treated with more kindness.”

“No, I didn’t think of doing that. I—I did not need to with the prince who is now Osu, he did not—He was not the one—Tobio-sama did nothing to me.”

They stared. The realization seemed to hit at the same time in everyone.

“Oh.” Sugawara covered his mouth for a moment. “We—did not know.”

“No, I did not tell you,” Hinata said to the water.

“I—I did wonder, Hinata-kun,” said Yachi, “When you went out so fast that day to see him speaking.”

“Ah, you went to see his coronation?” Sugawara said. “Maybe that is what some people saw, and if they recognized you, they could have taken it to mean you had feelings for the prince.”

Hinata shrugged, eyes still following ripples and not the words of his friends.

“That seems a little far to take an assumption,” said Daichi.

“Ay, but so people do. At least we know Hinata, and are able to hear what he says.”

“It is not true,” the redhead said. “There is nothing that could be less true.”

His friends of the same age reverted to their fight against despondent pity, knowing it would upset Hinata further if he saw it. But Sugawara turned to his companion and found the suspicion and concern there matched his own. They exchanged the looks, and turned to watch the redhead as he went back to shore.

 

The king had arranged to meet his friend at the river at midnight. One of the grand boats had been prepared for their pleasure, and Hinata came eagerly to where he stood next to it. After the initial excitement of takeoff and the impressiveness of the luxury view, they floated along in mild comfort.

“I will have my eighteenth birthday, next week,” Hinata said.

“You are looking forward to it?”

“It will seem like a new start. Or, I am hoping it will.”

“I see.”

“Does it offend you that I’m older than you?” he smirked.

“I do not understand why you would need to ask that question. It is only a circumstance, it has nothing to do with either of us.”

“I only meant to tease you, because I think you might have been offended, if you were still as you were when we first met.”

“I do not like to think of what I was, and what I said.”

“Well, that is a nice thing about getting older, it gets easier to forget.”

“For certain things that is not very true.”

He did not have to look to know that the blunt end to the conversation had caused his guest to wilt. He had found out quickly that he had a bad habit of doing this, and blamed it on a lack of practice. When Hinata grew quiet, it always made him think of that fear the redhead had voiced, of not being noted in the way he wished to be noted, even if the wish was only a little one. So the king said with care:

“You look in better health than I have yet seen you.”

It made him smile, and give a gratefully received reply.

“My family is so important to me now, to be around them constantly. But I think—when I feel safest is when I am with you.”

“Positions of power have that effect.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s it.”

He had done it again. Tobio wished for the ability to make up for what he saw as injuries done to one who had enough of those to last a lifetime. Thinking of the smile, he wanted to bring it out again, but this made him curious as to the effect the redhead’s laugh would have on a night atmosphere. And before he had time to save his pride, he had already begun a feeble endeavor to hear it.

“I believe you were lying about the story of the bird.”

“Hm? What? Why?” he demanded.

“That story is your sister’s story, and you do not like to tell yours because it is somehow embarrassing.”

“How would it be embarrassing? And you know I don’t lie!”

“The real story of your name, in the dream of your mother or father or uncle—”

“Your uncle doesn’t have the dream, it’s only your mother or father.”

“Whoever’s dream it was, they saw no golden river or golden falcon, only an orange furry creature springing up from the ground and bouncing along at their heels.”

Hinata was frowning, then smiling.

“You are trying hard for something, but for what?”

Tobio refused to answer.

“You are going to make me laugh,” he warned.

“That is what I wished for.”

His nose wrinkled and the corners of his eyes scrunched, and then he did laugh. Tobio looked down, and the sparkling of the nearest lantern seemed to grow out across the water, while the little waves from the boat jumped up with a shy joy. Through the remains of laughter Hinata said:

“Why did you wish that?”

Again he made no answer. Hinata chuckled.

“Osu is not used to talking in any kind of humor.”

“What is the most difficult part of being king?” he said then.

“Nothing is easy. Speaking is very difficult, for me, and to constantly be surrounding by those whose job is to be spoken at, is—difficult.”

“You speak well, I have always thought so. Your voice was clear and smooth at your coronation.”

“Because I had set out beforehand what I was going to say. Answering direct questions I have not prepared for is where I struggle the most.”

Hinata was smiling. “You have no trouble answering my questions. You were doing it just now.”

“This—The situation we meet in is not the one I described.”

“Ah. I guess that’s true.”

He patted his feet against the polished wood of the deck.

“I have another question.”

“What is it,” the king said.

“It is about the match between you and Princess Akaashi-san.”

He rarely looked at Hinata while being questioned, but this inquiry moved his eyes.

“Because you were promised to her at a young age, did you not have the freedom to see people you met as beautiful and attractive? And when you were introduced to people your age, did you have to keep yourself from being excited, and thinking that you might—want them to be a part of your future? What I mean is, were you not ready like other young people to meet and fall in love?”

He sat through his embarrassment until the point where he could begin to gather himself for the answer. Hinata’s regret was quicker in forming.

“I am sorry—”

“Give me another moment.”

He tapped his leg, and huffed through his nose.

“In general, the way we grew up did not allow much time for youthful love. Even if it had been of importance in our minds, we did not meet many people of our age. Not many were considered worthy.”

Hinata nodded to himself.

“We were taught much of pleasure,” Tobio said, “But not of the kind you tried to describe to me, during your stay. We were not taught of intimacy to go with physical pleasure.”

Almost not daring to, and certainly not daring to look, Hinata said:

“Have you—Since I went away, have you found someone willing to do what I…Do you have—someone who allows you your pleasures?”

“No, I have no time for things like that.”

“Because your only spare time is taken up by me.”

“If I disapproved of that, I would put an end to it. Spare yourself any guilt.”

“Besides,” the king said, “If I were to start in on such a habit, in the unbounded and unhindered way, with one person, it would likely lead to a second, and tenth and twelfth person.”

“You think so? Truly?”

“It is in my family history. History tends to repeat.”

Hinata hummed in apparent agreement, but his brow was deeply twisted with thought.

“Perhaps it will be of more importance later in my life,” said Tobio, “When these duties are all removed to my nephew, and my time is at leisure.”

“What do you mean?”

“As soon as he is ready the throne will be his. I decided, with advice, that it should be so. He will be properly trained. I will only have to manage for a short time.”

“I had no idea. If that is what you want, I hope nothing will keep you from being able to do it.”

Quiet.

“It is so strange,” he smiled, “To think of how I, the person of least importance in all the kingdom, am here with you, the person of most importance, the most powerful one of all.”

“There are many people with less power than you. I have both seen and heard of them.”

“But we don’t think like that,” Hinata said. “Since we are one people, who belong with one another, we all consider ourselves the least powerful person.”

“I see. There must be comfort in that.”

“Yes. That is one thing the most powerful person can never have.”

Tobio was stretched out on his stomach, supporting himself with his elbows, and as he looked up he could just see the redhead’s profile. He had the softest curve of a chin, a slight and delicate upturn of the nose, and when he let his head loll to the side his freckles came into the lanternlight. How he wished so precious a person was his alone, to protect.

But he had been. And Tobio had failed in his protection.

“Shoyo.”

He looked down.

“How is your family?”

The head cocked as wide eyes blinked at him.

“Has your sister grown? Does your father manage to keep up with his work as he gets older? And—is your mother in good health. You do not talk much about your mother.”

His mouth went tight. “I was always careful when I mentioned her, of course because I know you did not know yours for long.”

“I suspected as much.”

“My mother…She feels a duty to worry more than she used to. My father can distract his mind and keep from unnecessary worrying, usually, but my mother—she doesn’t, and she worries about the future, for what will happen to me, and not happen to me, and she worries about my sister and keeping her safe.” He gave him a direct smile. “But I think you would like my mother. She smiles with her eyes closed, like she’s really enjoying the moment and the thing that made her happy. It’s my favorite thing. She has such a nice smile.”

“If I have known one person who deserves such a mother, it is you,” said the king.

“Ah…”

Hinata only looked at him, with a sad sort of flaming in his eyes, and his lips wrinkled in an uncertain pity. After a moment they both looked away.

“My sister is starting to learn our dances,” he said with more cheer. “I get to teach her.”

“That is to her benefit.”

His giggle split into a laugh.

“My mother is the real talent of our family, and our whole neighborhood. My father fell in love with her by watching her dance for a friend’s wedding.”

Tobio did not trust himself with a reply to this.

“Here is the place my neighborhood comes to enjoy the river.” Hinata was pointing. “My home is not far.”

“You will go now, then.”

He nodded once.

“Thank you for the boat ride,” he said. “I enjoyed it very much.”

The king gave a slight bow of the head. Then Hinata gripped the side railing and slid underneath it, plopping quietly into the water. Without the redhead directly at his side, Tobio found the nerve to venture:

“Your mother has handed her ability down to you, I think. From the time Akaashi-san saw your performance, she was much more enamored with you than with me. So you should not stop dancing.”

He had revolved around in the water. And he smiled.

“Would you be happy, if you were with her now?”

“Happier in some ways, probably. But I would never have spoken to you again, if I had gone.”

“No.”

They looked at each other, until Hinata’s smiled cracked through all seriousness, and he brought his hand hard against the surface of the water, splashing it into Tobio’s face. He hopped to his feet, miffed beyond any anger, as the redhead laughed in blind amusement. Then he swam away, leaving an aura of enchantment. The king felt, or perhaps it was a wish, that he was an entranced ruler like those of the legends Ukai had relayed to him during his boyhood. Hinata Shoyo would be the creature of the sea, or the dessert, any place that was not this one, and his own free nature would be his defender.

But then, those stories had always ended in the successful conquest, be it called seduction or otherwise, of the spirit creature. This one could not end in such a manner, and if the way to ensure it was to remove the king from the ending altogether—

“So be it,” he whispered.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

Visits continued for four weeks, during which he saw Hinata two or three times a week, talked with him, and showed him all the palace rooms except a few that he would rather not have him see. When Hinata could be coaxed into telling a story, Tobio was always anxiously eager to hear it. For the redhead, he wanted to know all about what a ruler did during the day. It was hard for both to understand how people, who were people just the same, could live such different lives.

After each visit he was escorted home by one of the guards. Futakuchi, his most frequent company, quickly became someone he would call a friend. He had no idea the impression he was making in turn.

As they were leaving the palace one night:

“Red.”

“Hm?”

“I owe, have owed for some time, an apology to you.”

“You take me home almost every time I come, what would you have to be sorry for?”

“Now I take you home, but there was a time I took you from home.”

When Hinata looked blank, the guard said:

“Do you not remember that fated day when you and your friend were in the fields, and were apprehended?”

The redhead took a moment to think back. The sounds were clearer than the sights, but he did recall the strong tackle to the ground, and the face he had glimpsed before he tried to run.

“Yes,” said Futakuchi. “It was me, that day. And lately there have been no days when I do not think of that one.”

Hinata looked steadily back at him.

“I have been telling myself that no good would come from an apology after the—great horror of all that happened…But it seems that what my soul requires of me is an apology.” He sighed. “I am sorry for my taunts, for my abuse, and most of all for my capture of you.”

The redhead nodded. “I don’t hold it against you. My people know what it is to obey our orders, and to stay in our place.”

“But your orders are not orders to harm.”

“But they come from the same people. They make us feel the same way.”

The first tears leaked from the guard’s eyes.

“Red,” he choked, “Do you know that you cause us all torment? Half the palace does not sleep well, I swear it, because of you. I will wonder forever whether you were a blessing or a curse to the place. But it is fair, because now you know that you do not suffer alone, we all suffer with you.”

He knelt and was suddenly beneath the redhead, looking up.

“I am so, so very sorry, for the part I played.”

Hinata was going to reach out to him, but a heavy hand gripped his own shoulder first.

“I am sorry for all the distress it caused your family, and I am sorry also to your little friend, who we terrified I am sure, and who had to watch you be chosen, something that no one who knew you should have had to watch. I am—just very sorry, that I harmed you and did so intentionally.”

“It’s all right,” Hinata said. “You don’t need to cry.”

Though not visible, the soft smile could be heard in his voice. He assured of his statement by kneeling in the dirt, and hugging him around the middle. He was held tightly in return, and Futakuchi regretted as much as everything how he allowed a few tears to slip down onto the warm skin of the little redhead’s neck.

The guard stood back up and took his arm to help him. He brushed off Hinata’s knees, then his own, then wiped his arm roughly over his face.

“I swore I would restrain myself,” he said. “You should not tell anyone that I wept. Not your kingly friend especially, or how would I keep my job?”

“I have seen him cry more than I have seen you.”

“Oh ho?”

“But I should not have said that either.”

With that he hurried on, followed by eager questions which he fended off by covering his mouth and shaking his head.

 

Ennoshita had met the king to remind him of today’s meeting with his military leaders. In spite of Tobio’s wish that those who serve him have a choice in the matter, it was becoming apparent that necessity dictated a mandatory enlistment of some kind. He contented himself with the knowledge that at least those who had already done service to the throne had been provided a way out. They would not be required to come back to what they had left behind. Ennoshita agreed that the small, short-lived window had done its purpose. But his manner of saying this made the king scowl at him.

“You know that you are as free to leave as anyone else,” said the king.

He nodded once. When Tobio raised a brow at him, he spoke.

“If you no longer have a use for me, you do not need to hint it. I will obey your direct dismissal without causing a scene.”

“I am sure you know that is not in the least my wish.”

“Then what is, Majesty?”

“As you may have heard, Ukai will no longer be advisor to the throne.”

“I did hear, but thought it was a rumor.”

“It is fact. It is also fact that I would prefer you above anyone else as his replacement. We have spent a long time together, and I do not think it would be a difficult transition for you.”

He only had time to nod, and the king was not looking at him anyway.

“It is the natural thing that as I rise you should rise. And unlike myself you will have earned your position, not been handed it.”

“You were given it by necessity, Tobio-sama, but that does not mean you are unworthy of it.”

“You flatter me. I hope I have flattered you in return, or I will resort to guilting you into the duties.”

“I am flattered enough by the offer,” he smiled.

“You would be trained by Ukai.”

“I have no concerns with that or anything else the job entails, except for one thing.”

“What thing is it?”

“Well, I am ashamed to mention it. In comparison to such an honorable position and to such duties, it seems trivial. In your eyes, at least, it would seem that way, I imagine.”

“Trivial is how I see your dancing around the subject,” the king said. “Tell me, or do not.”

“Yes, of course, I am sorry for the silliness. It is that though my relations and acquaintances and I have always maintained a diligent correspondence, I have not seen them once, face to face, since I came here to the palace.”

Tobio looked at him. Ennoshita turned his head a little away, but it was the king who broke eye contact.

“No, you would not have time to comply with even one of their wishes while in constant service to each and every one of mine.”

Then Tobio moved so that he was facing him, with his hands behind his back and his posture perfect. Ennoshita was finding his full attention more and more intimidating, despite thinking it should be the opposite.

“If you agree to take on the position and its greater responsibilities, and if you will be open to Ukai’s guidance, I will allot you one day of each month for paying visits to your acquaintances.”

“Ah—I—I am grateful. Thank you.” He bowed his head. “It is more generous than I could even wish.”

“I know very well that it is not generous,” said the king. “But it is the only amount of time I can spare you, therefore my only offer.”

He smiled. “It is plenty generous, I mean it in honesty.”

“Go now, and return at this time tomorrow. I will have plenty prepared for you to do.”

“Yes, Majesty, yes of course!”

He left. Tobio scolded himself for his satisfied feeling. It was not modest, but he enjoyed the power of granting people that which would make them happy.

He was likely to be in danger of perfect satisfaction if only he could do as much for his little friend.

 

It was midafternoon. Hinata had wandered into his room in between errands for his father. As it always happened when he sat in a quiet moment, his thoughts were drawn to certain memories he could not distance from himself. They were like the moat of the palace, taking the river from its proper course, unwanted but unavoidable.

As he sat, he shed a few tears.

The divider between the siblings’ rooms slide open, and he blinked at his sister standing there. She was crying. He leapt up.

“Natsu what happened, what’s wrong?”

She whimpered, tried to wipe some tears, then dropped her fisted hand and let out a bawl.

“You are crying again, Nii-chan. Why are you so sad? I hear you cry every night, I don’t—want—I don’t want you to cry anymore.”

He felt the strength which had hardened in him at his sister’s entrance crumble away. He shook his head, too choked up to do anything else. He took fumbling steps as he motioned her forward. She came, and he picked her up and sat down on the bed, holding her.

Being of his size meant that he always felt he was the one being embraced, encircled, and the only time it was not true was with his sister. But now, even that had changed. He felt just as small as her.

He lied down on his back and she rested on top of him, coughing out her sobs as Shoyo choked on his. Tears streamed down their noses, cheeks, chins. He tried to pat the back of her head, though he could manage no words of comfort.

It was their mother who found them, both asleep, but with dried streaks on her son’s face, and wet spots on his shirt where Natsu lay her head.

“The gods help me!”

She touched her daughter’s back, then dropped to her knees at the bedside, folded her hands together, and prayed, in teary whispers.

“Please…Please take this from them, they are too young to have to bear it. Please—bless my children, do them no more harm. No more harm…I beg you…Please, my children, keep them from—from more of this—Stop their hurting. It is enough.”

 

Four weeks grew to six.

They had gone swimming several times, and Hinata assumed there must be something about the pressures of ruling that made the king consent to join him in the activity these last few times. At night the pool held darkish water, and the blooms on the walls cast long shadows. The vines separating it from the moat swung with a mild breeze. Tonight especially, there was an identifiably sultry quality to it all. Tobio willfully ignored it.

“Osu, you’re so thoughtful,” the redhead called. “This is no time for that.”

“If you will not permit me now, I will have to sacrifice my sleep later.”

“Do it now, then. I may be tired in a few more laps.”

“That is less likely than me banishing my thoughts.”

He laughed once, and went on swimming. Tobio watched him go under the surface, then turned and heaved himself over the side of the pool. When Hinata came back up, he saw the king walking away from him, shorts dripping little beads of water down his mostly exposed thighs. He had not been insensible of the mood surrounding them, and this blatant addition to it made his discomfort greater. The king was securing a skirt high on his waist, and Hinata turned away before he slipped the wet bottoms out from underneath it.

Tobio sat in a chair in the shadow of the palace. Only a few more minutes passed before Hinata crawled out of the water, embarrassed by his kicking and squirming in comparison to the king’s powerful thrust. He kept his eyes down as he tiptoed near; Tobio leaned forward to hand him a towel, which Hinata took before stepping away to dry himself. He swam in his clothes, now, and he only took his shirt off to wring it out and to wipe down his upper body. The water was cool, and he rubbed forcefully to warm his skin. Tobio allowed himself to watch for a moment, then got up and wandered while Hinata finished and pulled his shirt back on. He shivered and wrapped the towel around his shoulders. Then he said something that had often occurred to the king to say before.

“Do you happen to have any of the clothing that was made in my size? I—It would be nice to leave in something dry, if I could find anything partly decent.”

“To my knowledge we do have it,” said Tobio. A pause. “Come this way.”

He led him inside, taking a sharp left and moving down stairs, into a storage area. Hinata stood peeking at the doorway, hesitating even when the prince stood back and gestured him in. He finally stepped forward, and Tobio waited outside while he moved to the racks against a wall.

He laughed a little, and the king looked in at him.

“Some of these are very cruel inventions, Osu.”

“They are not my inventions. I have no eye for design. And little imagination.”

Hinata pulled out a sheer gown of shiny nude-colored material.

“It is strange…The last time I was put into these clothes, it was Akaashi-sama who helped me, and at that time I felt—I felt they made me appear as someone who could hold myself with pride no matter who it was who would see me. It was probably Akaashi-sama, not the clothes, that made me feel that way.”

“How did it come about that she helped you?” said the king.

“Somehow she found out that I was being dressed for—for the promise I had made. She came and saw that I was struggling, so she offered to help me. It seems like she knows about everything.”

“I believe she does. She is all goodness.”

“Yes.”

Tobio waited, then stepped forward to take hold of the door.

“I will be up the stairs, when you are finished.”

He left to wait.

Hinata appeared at the top of the steps in a maroon bodysuit; it had sheer legs and sleeves, cuffed on the ends, and cinched in at the waist. A small V cut out against his chest, and as he passed by the king saw how the shoulders of the material tied at his neck, and exposed a narrow oval of skin as it hung down his back. Tobio could not deny that it attracted him, but he was finding that if he did not do so much work himself in preparation to be aroused, the feeling was not so unmanageable when it did come. He wondered whether the fact would upset Hinata. Just then the redhead ended their silence.

“I take more naturally to these clothes,” he said. “I guess because they are fitting for what I am now.”

“If you meant what I suspect you did—” The king glanced sideways to confirm it. “You should not think that about yourself.”

They walked the last few lengths to the front entrance. In the patch of moonlight before the columns, the king stopped and turned to face him.

“You are still as pure to me as you always were. Much purer than I could ever be.”

“That is not so true as you think,” said the redhead.

Tobio looked harder at him. Hinata was half hiding his face. He suddenly broke his stillness and took light steps until only inches in front of him. There he swayed for a moment, then pushed onto his tiptoes, letting down his eyelids, and kissed his chest between the packs of muscle.

Hinata hardly knew how he had managed to do such a thing, and he colored in the face as he turned and went quickly to meet the guard that would take him home. Tobio remained where he was, slowly burning under the touch of lips to such an erotic spot. It was sweet at the same time, which the king realized was essentially the dualism of his small friend. A kiss from him could touch every feeling that Tobio didn’t know he had, and light the fuse of his deepest desires.

 

Though they saw no one, the neighborhood seemed to be more active than usual for this time of night. There were echoes sounding as he and Konoha walked, and Hinata thought he heard his name once. But he discounted it. When they reached the end of his street, he thanked the guard, and went on alone toward his house. Suddenly there was someone in front of him, entering from what direction Hinata couldn’t tell. He lunged back from this man, then a moment later had identified him.

“Daichi-san?”

“Hinata?” He folded his arms and looked grave. “Here you are.”

“What—Were you looking for me?”

“Everyone is looking for you,” he said. “They say when your family woke, you were not in the house. They are in terror, we’ve roused the whole neighborhood to search.”

“Ah—My parents, they—they know?”

It was then that he made eye contact with his mother, who was standing down the street from them. Daichi turned, then said hurriedly:

“I will spread the word to the others.”

And he left Hinata to be stared at by his mother. He took a few steps toward her, but his throat was tightly shut. She came forward, narrowing her eyes to see him better.

“How…could you do this?”

“Nii-chan!”

His sister and father were already at the scene. She had her arms spread out as she ran toward him, and he crouched down to meet her hug.

“I thought you got lost again,” she shrieked. “You weren’t in my room and you weren’t in your room and I thought you weren’t coming back again, I thought you were lost again!”

“I’m right here. I’m fine.”

When he stood she still held him around the waist. He saw Yachi and her father on the conjoining street, watching him.

“Natsu,” said their mother. “Go with Yachi-san. Spend the night at Yachi’s tonight, all right?”

“But I want to stay with Nii-chan.” She tightened her hug. “I want to stay home with Nii-chan.”

“Natsu—”

“I want to stay with Nii-chan.”

“You go with Yachi-san. You stay the night with Yachi, do as your mother says.”

The little girl had half a scowl as she turned her face up to his.

“It will be all right,” Hinata said. “Go with Yachi-san, and it will be all right.”

She pouted her lip, but let her arms fall to her sides. She walked over to Yachi, took the hand she was offered, and looked back at him as she was led away. Even when they were out of sight her brother looked at the place they had disappeared, until he heard his father’s voice.

“Go into the house, Shoyo.”

He kept his eyes down as he walked past them. But once they were all inside, and the door was shut, they faced off, one against two.

“How could you do this?” his mother said. She was hugging herself and blinking at the ceiling. “You must know how this hurts us, after everything that has happened, and how could you do it?”

“I—I know you’re scared,” he said, “I know everything’s changed and that you—you’re not sure what to do—”

“Shoyo what is your excuse for this?” said his father. “Do you have no love for your family, do you not even have any pity? We could never believe that of you, having known you as you are for your whole life. That you would leave with no word and set us all into a panic, and more than that, to leave—for such a place, and for such—things—”

He had gestured at his son, but the hand fell weakly back to his side, as he leaned near his wife and tried to wipe the tears before they were seen.

“No, Father, there is—there is no thing, only talking, only seeing a friend, which is just the same as I have always liked to do, and I—I am not so different as I seem to you—”

“Our son as he used to be,” cried his mother, “Would not walk off in the dead of night, and he would not return dressed in such an unseemly way, a way that he knows will hurt his mother in the center of her soul, and which his sister of all people saw him wearing—What is the example you set for her tonight?”

He shook his head, trying more than anything to shake the tears away.

“I never meant to worry you, which is why I never told you or anyone, but I had to go, Mother, because he is my friend and he’s lost as much as I have, he doesn’t have family and he needs—needs someone—”

“Where is your pride, Shoyo?” she burst. “Where is the self-respect we raised you to have? You do not have to—to play the whore to him just because he is above you in birth.”

“That is not what I’m doing! I knew you wouldn’t believe the reason, because you think that if one of them has hurt me then they all must be the same.”

“Shoyo, he did hurt you,” said his father. “And now because he is powerful he has a way of making you think that you deserve the hurt, and that you should return for more. But your family and all your friends will not allow you to do it. We could not protect you then but we have all vowed to do it now. And you leave of your own will and throw our commitment to you away, you return to the one who has destroyed your present and future—”

“Listen to me, Father, he did nothing to me! Tobio did nothing! He is my friend also, he speaks to me and listens just like all of you do, and he wishes as much as you that I had not been used—”

“Because he would rather use you for himself!” said his mother. “He chose you from a lineup of those he cared nothing about—”

“He cares more for you than you do for him, because you refuse to hear about him, you think it’s impossible that I would have a friend who is not your friend and worse than that you expect me to hate him because you have taught me to do so, to hate everything about them when you never knew any of them your whole life! You should have let me be my own judge, and anyway you have no right to hate them compared to me, and I don’t!”

“Shoyo! We have been given every reason in the world to hate them, and you care so little for yourself now that you are blind to it. Do you think you meant nothing to us just because you were out of sight? Do you think you have stopped being a son and brother just because this has happened to you?”

“He rescued me! He took me away from people who wanted to hurt me more, and he sent me back to you, he did what you would have done if you were in his place and had his power, and he used it to help me. Don’t you think I owe him the same loyalty I owe to you?”

“You owe him nothing! They do not deserve any more of you, Shoyo, any more than they have taken by force,” she sobbed. “And we are not asking anything of you but that you do not believe the lies you were told. They do not own us, Shoyo. Their power does not give them any entitlement to you. You are _our_ son, our brother, our neighbor, our friend.”

“He sent you back to us,” said his father, “But he sent you back so empty, from what you were before. You may not see yourself as a completely transformed person, but your appearance to those who look at you is very much transformed.”

“What if that is only because you choose to make me appear differently?” he said. “What if when you look at me you are looking for a difference, because you think—there is no way I could be the same—you don’t want me to be the same, because—because I’m not pure. So what you see is what you expect to see, someone who is not the same son you always had because he has lost something that you are used to seeing when you look at him. Now because I do not have it, you refuse to recognize me.”

His mother huffed.

“We—are not—the ones—who want to see you hurt. What you had was not lost, it was taken from you, and it is something that you have a right to. They took away your rights, as they have always done to us, and if you let them they will take until there is nothing left of you. And whether you worry, or whether you rebel, those who love you are never going to stand back and allow it to happen to you.”

He could not answer anymore; he had never spoken an ill word to his parents, and that as much as anything was giving him terrifying stutters of heartbeat. He fled into the nearest bedroom, and all coherent thought poured out in his tears.

 

 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm so lame

For five days Hinata did not come.

Six days.

Seven.

What had been ignited in Tobio by the kiss died down, and bouts of depression weighed on him as he awaited his wedding day.

It was not a single issue dampering the days; his proposed amendments were being killed by the councils, most especially by members who had been close with the former king. He was prepared to force them into law by decree, but Ukai had told him what he already knew himself, beneath all his frustration: if the councils did not approve them, they would make a show of them not being followed, and their example would trickle down until it was the same as if the amendments had never been written.

One night he sat up late reading yellowed documents, by candlelight at a small glass table. There was an armless sofa a few feet from him. Huge tapestries of browns and blues softened three of the walls, while outside the windows it was perfectly dark. The candles on the table dripped wax. It slid down in thick beads. The flames flickered like breathes catching.

He heard a creeping step behind him, and set down the papers.

“Majesty?”

He turned. “Michimiya?”

“Yes, um, I have—I am here on Shimizu-sama’s orders. She is waiting down the hall, she hopes that she might be allowed to speak to you.”

“Of course.”

“She—” The brunette took two steps toward him, then one frightened step back. She cupped her hand at her mouth. “She is upset, I think.”

“Then bring her quickly.”

Her obedience was such that he had not begun to process the state Shimizu would appear to him in before she arrived. His chair clattered to the floor.

“T—Tobio—san—”

Her eyes were so full, yet so many tears had already washed out the color of her cheeks.

“There is something I must tell you.”

“What?” he almost whispered.

“I—I—I cannot—” She smothered her face with her arm. There was tiny squeaked choke, then she pressed her knuckles to her chin and sucked in a breath.

“I cannot marry you.”

His eyelids fluttered but didn’t blink. She spoke again with both hands folded together and tucked under her chin.

“It is for only selfish reasons, it is not that I think you unworthy, heaven forbid, it is only for selfish reasons that I say I cannot.”

“You do not have to expl—”

“I cannot marry you, Tobio. I cannot allow you to marry me. I had hoped, maybe even expected, that someone would replace me in the plan, someone that you found preferable to your own sister-in-law. But if it is not to be so by your choice, it must be by necessity then, because I cannot go through with it.”

He tried to point, but his hand only flinched in the direction, and he was forced to speak.

“Will you sit?”

She raised her eyes to him, and he gestured toward the sofa. She stepped to it and sat down, then he sat at the other end.

Shimizu lifted the hem of her nightgown and dabbed at her eyes. Tobio, looking at the floor, said:

“I do not know why you upset yourself over it…”

“Because—I could not love your brother.”

This demanded that he give her all his attention.

“I wanted to, no one can know how much I wanted to. And the want only grew, it was greatest at the end, when it was so easy to see what he needed…But—I could not do it.”

With that she slid gracefully to her knees, now all but prostrate at his feet.

“Tobio. I have and will always adore and esteem you, as a brother. I know because of it that I could not love you as a wife must love her husband, in order for the marriage to be right. I am sorry, I could not love you in that way. I would fail. Again.”

He had never looked her in the eyes for so long. Neither did he think he had ever been so close to fainting.

“I beg you. As your subject. Please do not force me to relive my mistakes.”

Tears slipped down. They pooled at the corners of her mouth; when she gasped a breath, they fell past her beauty mark and down her chin. A groan of wind wafted through a window, stirring the dark blue curtain, filling the air around them with the scents of the garden just below, the sweet fruits, the pollens, and as he looked again at the queen’s eyes, they had bloomed like irises after the rain of tears.

He put his arm around her. With a huff she came up into the embrace, putting her hands on his shoulder blades. When he spoke, low, it hummed against her shoulder.

“Choose anyone as your replacement. Anyone at all.”

It was only a short time before she retracted from him, stood up, and smoothed the front of her nightgown. Her face had returned almost magically to its reserved serenity. Her voice too hushed with its regular soft edge.

“Thank you. Goodnight, my prince and king.”

He could not manage a word, a nod, anything.

 

It was the night before. Hinata stole across the rickety flooring, half focused and half in prayerful hope that he had done his memorizing well enough. He slid through the front door and ran into the shadows. He waited. When no light came on in the house, when no one came through the door after him, he fled his fear of capture and ran toward the palace.

Watari, the former servant, was on guard at the entrance, and was even quicker than Hinata to smile.

“Hinata, hello.”

“Hello Watari-san.”

“We have not seen you in a while.”

“I know.”

The redhead’s smile had slipped away, so Watari only watched him hurry past. Then he turned toward the night, looking in the dark direction of the prison, and pounded the butt of his spear three times against the step.

In a minute Terushima came over the lawn, swinging a lantern at his side.

“Please watch here,” Watari said. “I must report to Shimizu-sama.”

“Are you sure you’re not going to try spying on Little Red and the king? I will insist on accompanying you for that.”

“No of course not. Please watch.”

“Yes, yes.”

 

The room was lit by a few lamps, but the curtains were drawn around the king’s bed, and Hinata was almost put off from his purpose. But to be sure he shuffled nearer, around to the right side where a ball of lamplight shone through the hangings. His hand had almost reached to part them when he hesitated.

Tobio had moments ago woken from a nightmare. He sat up and blinked as quickly as he was breathing. Then both reflexes stopped, and he stared with too-wide eyes as the curtains parted.

Everything evaporated from him when he saw the redhead peering through the gap.

“Where—have you been?”

Hinata’s mouth o’ed.

“My parents found out last time that I was gone. They were afraid, of course they would be, and they sent out everyone to look for me.” He raised his head. “I didn’t think it was right to sneak out again so soon, because I hurt them badly. We—had an argument about it.”

The realization that his chest was bare made Tobio uncomfortable, and he pulled up the sheet to cover himself, clenching the fabric against that spot he had been kissed. Meanwhile Hinata sat down next to the bed, on a pillow that had been cast down as the king thrashed about.

“How are you, Tobio-sama?”

“Not well at all.”

The brown eyes muddied.

“I’m sorry.”

“It is not your fault,” he muttered.

“I…It seems that they really do hate you. And nothing that I say—changes it.”

“From what they know of my family, their hatred is justified.”

“No, don’t agree with them. You are not your family. You are not any of the old kings, you are the new king. I’m their son, they should believe what I say about you.”

“Maybe you did not say the right things, or not in the right way,” said Tobio.

Hinata looked down at his twisting hands.

“I don’t know if I will convince them. I’m not sure how often I’ll be able to come, now that they know. I—I am of age, and I should stand up for myself, but I still would rather not go against them and have them—disapproving of me, because they care about me. I know you probably don’t understand something like that.”

“I understand.”

His forcefulness jolted Hinata.

“I understand. You do not have to worry about coming, if it is an evil to your loved ones. I am here with Shimizu and with my nephew, as my family, and I will always have work to do with my staff. It is no matter if you cannot come, I would rather you preserve your relationship with them. We will be fine here.”

Hinata blinked wide eyes. Then a smile lifted his face, a soft small smile that Tobio could feel warming the room.

“I see.”

 

The knocking at their door in the dead of night sent the Hinatas into panic, not helped by the delusions of sleep still webbing up their brains. Shoyo’s father staggered out to the front in the dark, tripped over a chair and made a bang that brought his wife lurching from the bedroom with a lamp in hand. She helped him up. More knocking made them jolt again. He could read in her eyes a reflection of what must be showing in his own; only some terrible and sinister thing could be upon them, if a knock of such authority sounded at the door this hour.

He pressed his head into her neck and kissed her collarbone. She put her cold hand on his shoulder and they went to the door.

Two palace guards, with spears and armored skirts, took up the whole of the doorway. His father stumbled back in fear; Hinata’s mother kept him from falling.

The guards stepped away to the sides, to reveal two more people behind them. One was a third guard, and the other appeared to the Hinatas to be a stone statue that had come alive as a woman.

“I am Shimizu.”

The name meant nothing to them. But by her appearance, there was only one person it could be. As one the parents moved backwards, curving toward their children’s rooms. The woman tapped the guard on her right, and all three of them retreated from the door, while the queen walked through it into the house.

“I am sorry for the lateness of my visit.”

The father murmured to his wife:

“I will get Shoyo.”

“He will not be in his room,” Shimizu said.

They stared.

“It is because he came visiting to my home that I went visiting to his.”

The couple dropped their eyes simultaneously.

“We…We did tell him, all along,” said his father, “He did not belong there and had no business…His mind is his own, and his spirit will follow it to the end, but as his parents we take all responsibility, we are truly and deeply sorry for his intrusion—”

“There is no need to apologize. He is a very welcome guest, of both myself and the king.”

The moment of silence would only have grown, if not for the creak of floorboards and a tiny child peeping into the front room. Seeing strangers, Natsu made a little noise and ran to latch onto her mother’s leg. She stared at the big men crowded at the stoop, cooing an audible whisper:

“Giants…”

Then she saw Shimizu. Her mouth rounded like her eyes, her fists closed hard at her mother’s skirt. She looked up at her parents, then back at the queen, then to her parents again. Her mother bent down and said something in her ear. Then she shielded her with an arm and Natsu clung at her side, staring moons at the visitors.

Shimizu cleared her throat, the most elegant sound ever heard inside the clay house.

“The king is my reason for coming. I know of your custom in which families come together to consider the future of their involved loved ones. I am here on behalf of Tobio-sama, as his family.”

His mother’s feet left the ground as she threw her arm around her husband’s neck, searching for eye contact from him. He could not give it; his top lip hovered away from his bottom, and his fingers were dead to Natsu’s insistent squeezing of them. The little girl pressed between the legs of her mother and father, peeking once over her shoulder with a brownie eye.

Finally Hinata’s father looked to his wife. Then he looked to Shimizu.

“You—Your Majesty. Would you like—Would you care to sit down, if it will not do you any dishonor, believe us we meant nothing by—”

“Certainly. Thank you for the offer.”

She sat.

 

“I wonder if Akaashi-sama is queen yet.”

Hinata had his arms up on the edge of the bed, and his chin rested on the backs of his hands. Tobio couldn’t find a way to distance himself without the redhead noticing, so they remained not many inches apart. He talked to the curtain more than the guest.

“Yes, she is. I got a letter two days ago, in which she said so.”

“Wow, that’s great! Did she sound happy and excited? I bet the people in her country are happy to have her. Is she married too?”

“She is not yet.”

His smile was pure; he let his head fall to the side.

“I’m glad that Iwaizumi gets to have happiness, after all his suffering here.”

“The northern country may be the place to go for happiness of all kinds.”

“I have been happy here for more days than I have been anything else.” Hinata peeked up at him. “But maybe for you it would have been better to go.

“But then for me,” he added, “It would not have been better. I would hate to lose you as a friend. But I guess if you had gone and married Akaashi-sama like you planned, then we would never have become friends at all.”

They were getting into dangerous territory, and Tobio wanted least of all for this visit to be tainted by anguish of any kind.

“It is no use to talk about what will never happen,” he said.

“You’re right. And I just remembered, I brought you something.”

He removed his arms from the bed to reach into the pocket of his shorts.

“What is it?”

“It’s not a gift, really, only a little something.”

The first and last gift he had received was a boy slave for his seventeenth birthday. He was hit with a pricking nervousness, and there was an upward twitch at his mouth as he watched Hinata retrieve the object. It was wrapped in a dust colored cloth, which he carefully unfolded with one hand. Then he held the gift out toward the king.

“It’s our special dessert. Three hundred years ago our ancestors would bake this because they believed the scent pleased the gods.”

Tobio put out both hands, and his friend set the cloth in them, and two thick slices of an orangey brown bread roll.

“It’s made with only a teeny bit of sugar, and the rest of the flavor is cinnamon and these little black seeds that are sort of bitter and sort of like tang. Smell it, it tastes almost exactly the way it smells.”

He lowered his head and caught just a hint of the aroma. He was looking, only looking at it.

“My friend Yachi’s mother makes the best loaves, so she brings them around to all the neighbors. It was finally my family’s turn again, and I saved some for you. You might not like it, some people don’t on the first try, it’s sort of a taste to get used to. Or it might not taste sweet enough, compared to your palace desserts.”

The king did not understand the deep reaction threatening to overwhelm him. He looked up to Hinata without seeing him, then looked back down.

“Thank you.”

Hinata hesitated, concerned.

“You’re welcome.”

Tobio set the gift on his bedside stand, clumsily rewrapping it.

“When are you going to try it?” Hinata said. “Or, did you not want to…”

“I will have it later, not while we are talking.”

He nodded. “What else do you want to say, Tobio-sama? If it will be our last time talking, maybe for a long while.”

“I am not sure.”

Hinata lay his head on his hands again, humming a little, and the prince suddenly let his eye catch on the hair. It was so very within reach, so very fluffy…His hand wanted to touch, but with a mental effort he overruled it.

“How is Shimizu-sama?”

“Well enough, as far as I can tell.”

In the quiet he listed closer, while trying not to move the mattress.

“What kind of mother is she?” Hinata said.

“I think in private she is very affectionate. A very good kind, I would say.”

“Mm.”

Still he looked at it. Then as the quiet grew again, whispering to him that it would be all right, that there was tranquility in this moment, he reached out, and brushed fingers through it.

Hinata’s face went alertly still, but it wasn’t visible to the king.

The hand returned, and pinched a tuft between two fingers. Tobio let it slide free. Then the tips of all five pushed into the warm orange, down to its roots.

He removed his hand, and Hinata straightened up.

“I am sorry. If it distressed you.”

“It didn’t. That would not distress anybody.”

The king dropped his eyes. Hinata’s roamed over him until Tobio looked at him again and his gaze snapped back to his face.

“Hinata—”

“Yes?”

“May I—ask something of you, as you are a friend. It is something you can refuse without offending me. I do not know if it will seem like a large or small request, so I must ask to find out.”

“Yes, you may ask.”

“May I—”

As his eyes feigned and he shifted his legs under the sheet, Hinata mirrored the nervousness; his assumptions got a little wilder, and concern clouded his face.

“May I, as your friend, put my—May I—em—embrace you?”

Hinata blinked. He smiled, and tried to cover it with his hand. He nodded.

“Yes, I’d like that. It’s not a large request at all.”

Tobio managed a nod. Suppressing his smile, Hinata stood up. The king leaned forward and put his arms around him. Hinata copied the gesture.

For a moment things fluttered and stirred inside him, then they welled up and he squeezed the redhead on instinct. That seemed to help. Then the hair entered his thoughts again. He brought his hand up to touch it in the back. He rubbed a few pieces between his fingers. Hinata stirred, but had already settled in, closer, before Tobio could read it as rejection. He took his hand away, and tilted his head so that his cheek felt the soft tickle of the hair.

He hugged hard and pressed deeper into the warmth. He aborted his deep inhale, to avoid losing control. He felt Hinata’s hand pat his back. Tobio released him, and the redhead plopped onto the pillow with a flushed smile.

“So…What was the best part of your day?”

“When you came here, of course.”

His color heightened. “Oh. Well, besides that.”

He thought. “Shimizu-san and I had breakfast together before dawn.”

“Ah. I like the early morning, one of my parents comes to wake me and we all quietly work in the dark. It’s nice.”

Tobio nodded.

“Did you have a worst part of the day?” Hinata said.

“Before you came I was having a terrible dream.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Was it a frightening kind?”

“Terrifying.”

“Mm.”

He tapped his chin, and his lashes fanned nervously.

“What are you thinking of?” said the king.

“Well, I have dreams too, but they’re not the most frightening thing. The most frightening thing…is something I don’t want to tell you.”

The king forced eye contact.

“I already know what you are going to tell me. So there is no need to hold it back.”

Hinata pursed his lips. “The most frightening is coming here. I’m afraid—of him—appearing again. And I won’t be able to escape.”

Yes, he had known what was coming; ready tears burned in the king’s eyes. Hinata leaned closer to his face, and he could do nothing, not even breathe.

“But I am not afraid when I’m with you. As long as you’re here, I am—”

What could he possibly say, when Tobio was here in front of him using every shard of will to avoid having to wipe his eyes.

“Invincible.”

The spell was broken, his neck released it tension and he turned away and smudged the tears over his skin.

“I’m sorry,” Hinata said. “Eat the bread. It will make you feel better.”

Tobio reached for it, broke the first piece into halves, and offered one to Hinata. They ate it together and were physically consoled. The redhead closed his eyes and made a serious hum. Tobio closed his eyes too. And he could almost see it, their busy, gritty neighborhood, their seamless little houses, the earth and the water and the sky they were so close to.

He opened his eyes, and Hinata was smiling at him.

“It made your frown go away. Yachi-san’s bread must be magic.”

He hmpfed.

“I—I should go home now. Hopefully they haven’t noticed that I’m gone.”

Tobio nodded. Hinata stood up, but paused in thought.

“I don’t know when I will see you again. Or if I will, for a long time.”

“You will do what you must. And I will do what I must in your absence.”

“Maybe I could write to you,” Hinata said. “Would you have time to read a letter?”

“If I have time to speak for hours with you, I will likely have time to read a letter.”

“Would you like me to write, if I don’t come?”

“Yes.”

With some cheer the redhead nodded. He walked over to the bed curtain.

“Goodbye, then. I hope things go well for you.”

“Be safe,” said Tobio.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Goodbye Hinata.”

“Goodbye.”

He tried for a smile, and gave a little wave over his shoulder. Then the curtain swished open, and fell shut.

 

Tobio tried to sit still in bed, though he knew sleep would stubbornly resist him. He tried to look up at the blue canopy and name the details with his eyes. But whatever the details really were, they morphed into those details he had always been most attentive to, that he had always found his senses so deliberate to commit to memory. When he recalled one he recalled them all, and it set the ache rising from a horrible cold place in his stomach to his brain on fire.

His brother had killed himself. Tobio was king and there was no escaping it. He would be married, he did not even know to who.

And Hinata. What had happened to him. What continued to happen to him, because he now lived with it.

How he hated it all, how he wished for the existence of no god but the one of burning and death. How he wished he were that god and had no other purpose and felt no other thing.

Then it occurred to him. He could be that god. His family had all along been so good at playing the divine. He could play too.

He went into the hall and almost trampled the guard stretched out on the floor, asleep.

“Lev!”

He sprang onto all fours.

“M—M—Majesty.”

“Where is Ennoshita?”

“I—I—”

“I want him now. Go.”

“Yes sir yes sir!”

He bounded away.

The king waited, pacing the hall, until Ennoshita was there with sleep crusted but attentive eyes.

“Tobio-sama, what has—”

He silenced him with a hand. “Do you know of the room where the slave Iwaizumi was kept?”

“Iwa—I am sorry?”

“The room my brother used for his abuse.”

“A—Ah. I know of it.”

“Take everything from that room and burn it to ash.”

“Majesty?”

“Go! Why are you questioning?”

Ennoshita ran back the way he had come.

“Report to me in the Room of Resting Lights.”

“Yes.”

Tobio went there, ran there. It was a room of glass lamps, set on tables, on shelves, and in cabinets and armoires. When a member of the royal family passed, the lamp was taken from their room and retired to this place, not to be used again. To go in and destroy one or two was always a thing he had thought of doing, to see whether his father would have any reaction to his behavior. Tobio had never done it while his father lived. Now when he entered, the first table he encountered was thrown over by its corner, spilling all its glass to the unforgiving floor.

He shoved armoires on their side, cracking their wood like thunder and splattering glass like water droplets. He hurled lamps at the cabinet faces, and the glass cracked up and the pieces fell as a cascade. It was the sound of it that soothed most, like a whole-hearted pounding rain, the kind that came only once in a decade to throttle life into their dry ground. It did not take long at all to put everything in pieces. When he was through, only one table still stood, but its lamps had been swept to their deaths.

Outside the room was a stand with a bowl of water. A candle floated in it. Tobio set the candle on the stand, dumped the water over his bleeding hand, and took the bowl into the room. He crouched down, and with quivering arms began to pick up each sparkling shard and put it in the bowl.

As he was doing this, tensely but methodically, Ennoshita came.

“G—Gods—Are you all right?”

“I want every portrait of my brother, father, and his father put inside that room,” he said without looking over.

“As you wish…”

Tobio expected him to go away. But he spoken again, this time in a voice resolute and threatening.

“Tobio-sama, have you hurt yourself.”

“I am fine.”

“Madness runs in your family. I have seen what it looks like.”

“I would hope that when I go mad,” said the king, “I will not feel nearly as much as I do now.”

The servant’s eyes dimmed. He pursed his lips and left the room.

Tobio crouched and picked up the glass. To finish undoing his mess would take him all night, and all day tomorrow, until the time he was wanted for the ceremony, and that suited him fine. He did wish the nerves in his hand would stop pulsing around the embedded shards, irritating him.

He was so lost to himself that he didn’t notice the appearance of three servants, not until he heard the echo of glass tinkling into bowls. He shook his bangs from his eyes, and looked at them crouched like him, with clean hands reaching for each piece of broken purity. They said nothing and kept their eyes determinedly from his direction.

Two more pickers joined them. Then two more. Then three entered the room, bowls at their hips, and the floor was spread not just with glass but with servants. Two women hefted an armoire back onto its legs. An old man lifted a table to gather the debris underneath it. Tobio flinched when someone bent down at his left side. Her hair hung down so that he could only see one of her eyes; with this eye she questioned him, and not reading aversion, she touched his wrist and with her free hand removed the glass pieces from his skin. He stared at her, as his ears stared at the sounds of work. She wrapped his hand with a white cloth, tying it neatly at his palm, then moved away.

They helped him, not because it was their job, but their duty.

 

“No...”

Hinata was standing in the street, looking at the hint of light in his house’s window. Dim as it was, it burned like the sun funneled at him, and he was too anxious to wait long away from it.

He pushed open the door.

His mother sat at the table with only the lamp for company. He stood there a moment before she looked at him. Her eyes were soft in their usual way, maybe a little softer, as she beckoned him forward. Shoyo went to her.

When his mother stood they were eye to eye, except he wasn’t looking up. He felt her embrace him.

“We are glad you made it home safely.”

She pushed her hand through his hair, before she moved away.

“Get your rest now, listen to your mother.”

She blew out the lamp. He felt her smile at him in the dark. They went to their rooms.


	19. Chapter 19

They were eating their meal in the early evening, between the day’s business work and what would have been a second shift in the field. But as it looked like it would rain, an order had come from the palace that tending would not be required tonight. At least, Hinata had assumed that rain was the reason.

“If you are going on a visit today, Shoyo,” said his mother, “We send our well wishes with you.”

“Hm? What do you mean Okaa-san?”

“You must give our congratulations to a friend of yours.”

He looked between his parents. His father leaned back from the table, expression mute.

“The king will be married today.”

“M—Ma—”

The bottom dropped out of his stomach with a rush he could hear inside his head. He had stood up before he knew it.

“I have to go. To see my friend.”

He missed the nods from his parents, and even the bleated question from his sister, his feet carrying him to the door and his mind already arriving at the destination.

He did not even think of using the entrance; the guards with all their suspicions would know him to be the least appropriate guest to the affair. He went for the balcony, by means of the white draperies which hung just as their opposites had before. The white was always at his eyes and ever confirming the truth, as he climbed. He latched his ankles around the railing and swung himself into the room.

“Osu!”

Tobio jolted. His eyes lit and pulsed when he saw the redhead, but Hinata didn’t notice. He was observing the rippling grey cape attached to shoulder and chest plates, the bands of silver at his wrist and up his arm, the dark purple capri pants. The serious beauty of it sickened him.

“You are getting married and were never going to tell me until it was over?”

The prince frowned in the usual way.

“Only today my parents happened to tell me, in all the times we spoke you never said a thing, not a word!”

The reply was low but not light in tone.

“There is a law that I must marry in order for my nephew to be the heir. I had no choice in the matter.”

“I don’t care what choice you had! I don’t care why you are marrying, I don’t care that it’s the queen or who it is!”

“Then why—” he shoved the column of bracelets off his arm— “Do you come here to rage at me? I must be married, and it is not to Shimizu, I do not know who it will be, so you see I have no power over it.”

“You had the power every moment we were together to tell me you were going to be married,” he cried. “If I had not found out you would never have told me, it would have been a secret, and then I would have been doing something awful by still coming here.”

“I do not know what you are talking about,” he said through his teeth.

“How could you not tell me? Were we never really friends, did you never even care for me to visit? Well that’s fine! Now I won’t keep coming.”

“Why can you not keep coming? This has nothing to do with you. If you are my friend you will remain so whether or not I am married.”

“No, I won’t, it does have to do with me, and—and what you were trying to do was horrible. I’m not going to come anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“You think that it will be a scandal to come to me anymore, when the only thing that has changed is my being married under law. Why does it matter that I am married?”

Hinata clenched his jaw, eyes spitting fire. He said absolutely nothing.

And no words could have given a fuller answer.

“In this room,” said the king, “Ages ago, you made a promise to me.”

Hinata glared.

“Did you ever intend to keep that promise?”

“Yes.”

“Because you pitied me?”

“No.”

“Because you feared me.”

“ _No_.”

“Then why.”

He gnashed his teeth and clutched at his shirt. Tobio almost shook his head at him.

“I did not tell you because you did not need to hear what you already knew. You could not stay here. You would not want to stay here. You have your home, among those who adore you.”

Hinata made a sound in his throat.

“I cannot break my promise,” Tobio said.

“Even though you are forcing me to break mine.”

He was still glaring, but his aura had been changed by the furiously squinted back tears. When they still threatened to escape he bit down on his lip. He couldn’t put his eyes away, and couldn’t say anything, and as he watched it Tobio hurt in a place he had never known he could.

They heard voices and were equally startled. Shimizu entered, with her son and Michimiya, as well as Ukai and his trainee. After an instance of surprise as the groups encountered one another, the queen spoke, to the even greater surprise of the room.

“Hinata Shoyo, you are here.”

Ennoshita looked to Ukai at the same time Tobio did, but the older man’s cluelessness reflected theirs. Hinata was frozen under the queen’s eyes.

“Can we speak in the other room, Shimizu-san?” said the king

She went out, and the men hurried after her. Tobio bit on his lip and took a moment to push the heat from his head.

“Who is it—that you have chosen?” he asked her.

“My chosen has arrived in perfect time. You have already spoken with him, it seems.”

“Yes, I spoke with him, only to be accused of withholding the fact of my wedding. Do you have an answer as to why the chosen went unnotified of your choice?”

“Telling him that he had such a choice would not be believable to him at all, and especially not from me. It could not be true unless it was presented to him in person, do you agree?”

“I—trust in your judgement.”

Then he looked hard at Ukai. Ennoshita read the meaning and looked to him too. Ukai raised his hands.

“There is no law. All I will say is that there is no law.”

His tense shoulders lowered a fraction. But then he shook his head.

“There is no law that brought him here either, so how can I know that he has any intention or wish at all?”

“That is a question that has nothing to do with those of us in this room,” said Ukai.

“He came in anger,” Tobio said.

“Maybe not only in anger,” said the queen.

Their heads jerked toward her.

“Someone at home informed him, and someone at home also released him, so that it was possible for him to come.”

“What do you mean by that?” the king said.

“I spoke with his family.”

A chorus of three:

“You what?”

“You do not believe that I really spend every moment inside the palace, do you?”

Before they could swallow their sheepishness to make a reply, a blur cut through the air in the room. Hinata was running by them, to the exit.

Tobio chased after him. But the redhead was too quick, he might see a flash of his back, or even only hear his heels around a corner. He could never get closer, and there seemed to be something sticking up his throat, so that he couldn’t call out.

Hinata’s heart was leaping up and crashing down inside him. He breathed erratically, though that was making it harder and harder to get air at all. He had no direction until he saw a way up ahead, a light, and emerged into the low orange sun bathing the pool area. He leapt far out into the water. The splash reverberated in Tobio’s veins, and he came to the sight of Hinata pushing through the wall of vines to the moat, with one alarmed twist of the head which could not be counted as a look back.

He stood at the edge of the pool, feeling the cold of the beginning drizzle.

 

Hinata swam no great length before pulling himself onto the lawn and running the rest of the way to the bridge. But he slowed, at the sight of three people standing at it.

“A—A—Akaashi, Iwaizumi-san!”

It was she, unmistakably, her stout and stoic lover, and the ever loyal Kenma.

“What are you running from, Hinata?” the queen said.

He answered feebly:

“I don’t know.”

He skipped a step back in surprise at a body moving toward him. It was Kenma, eye level with him for one moment before she leaned forward and pressed a shoulder to his, hugging him around the back with ghost-like arms. In another moment she had resumed her place behind the couple. But it gave the tiniest of smiles to the redhead’s lips.

“What are you doing here, Majesties?”

Iwaizumi laughed, and it was so light-hearted that it transformed Hinata’s idea of him in one instant.

“There is no need to address me in the same way you address the queen, Hinata-kun.”

He gave a firm pat to the shorter’s shoulder.

“We are guests to the wedding,” said Akaashi.

“Oh.”

“Are we to understand that you are an involved party?”

He rubbed his foot against his opposite heel. “Well I wasn’t asked to be…”

“So you have before you a choice equally uninfluenced in both directions.”

To this he had no answer.

“Hinata,” she said. “The status of the offerer should have no bearing on whether you accept or decline. Neither should any doubt or question you have of yourself.”

“Your choice either way,” said Iwaizumi, “Should make you happy.”

“Well—Well I know that! I’ve always tried to be happy, but I just can’t, anymore. I try and I—” His voice cracked. “I can’t.”

Akaashi allowed him a few seconds’ silence.

“It so happens that you are acquainted with a woman who does not believe in a question of can or cannot.”

He blinked wide at her. “What do you believe in?”

“I believe that you have loved many people, and that many people have loved you. It has freed you. The choice you make now will be made in complete freedom. Understand that.”

What he could not understand was how a single person said as many amazing things as he had heard her say.

“Let us go in now.”

She led her troop past him and toward the palace. As Hinata watched them, he observed a growing tentativeness in Iwaizumi’s steps, until fear of the place finally faltered him to a halt. At this point he reached forward for her hand, and she turned immediately and said something in his ear. As they moved on together her other hand rested on his arm.

 

Tobio had returned to his front chamber, casting quiet over the gathered servants and necessary council witnesses, Takinoue and Shimada, and Hanamaki and Matsukawa. The king spoke in one tone.

“Ennoshita, you will marry me.”

The jaws of his comrades dropped open, while the man in question nearly jumped with his response.

“Majesty! Me! It—Of course I cannot do that!”

“Any of you others, then. It does not matter who, any one of you.”

Silence. They shuffled their feet, avoided eyes, unconsciously angled their shoulders away from him, until fury leapt into the king’s mouth and he rounded on Ukai.

“What then! If there is no one in the country who will take the king, what does the law say to that?”

Collectively all eyes left him for something beyond his figure, and he spun around to see. Hinata was almost entirely hidden by shadows and the doorframe. He blinked once at Tobio. Then he retreated completely from the room.

The king walked away from the silent party, into the hall. Hinata had not gone far, but when Tobio appeared he took steps to lengthen the distance between them. Hardly glancing, he said on a breath:

“Your eyes are so beautiful.”

Tobio was shocked both at the abruptness and the way the sentence had been closed with such surety. His mouth wobbled in uncertain embarrassment.

“I always thought…it was probably why you could see me differently than everyone else. It’s selfish, I know, but I—I didn’t want that to end.”

Movement from the king finally made him look up; Tobio’s hand was out, palm up, arm stretching toward him. Hinata stared back at the blues. He looked to the hand. It waited, and waited. Then his fingers began to close up. His arm sank under the weight of the tension. It fell away, back into itself—

Hinata lunged and slid his hand into the grasp of the other. He made one hasty glance at the king, revealing that he had already beaten Tobio to flushing. Seeing it, and pressing his fingers into real sinew, a real frenzied pulse that he could not doubt, his own cheeks cooled and his throat smoothed.

“If you do not want it to end,” he said, “It won’t.”

Then he turned and led him to the other room. Hinata let himself be eased around the corner and into a dream. The witnesses gravitated into a semi-circle. Tobio stopped moving, and offered his free hand to Hinata’s other. The redhead watched pale scuffed fingers slip beneath those so nimbly and pleasingly structured.

Tobio looked at him for just a moment on the way to turning toward Ukai. The advisor cleared his throat, and the priest promptly began.

 

The moment his hands had been released, Hinata was swarmed from nowhere by his servant and guard companions, offering congratulations at the same time as they discreetly swept him out of the chamber. Once in the hall, they buzzed around him.

“We will go down to dress you now, it won’t take long—”

“Will we be allowed to attend also?”

“Only family, I understand.”

“But Red is the guest of honor, I am sure he will let us in!”

“Sho-kun, we’ll get you to Semi and then to your celebration.”

“I thought I was to be the escort! I happen to have bid on the spot.”

“Hinata.”

He spun around dazedly. Shimizu was waiting for silence, and it washed over in an instant.

“Your family and friends are awaiting your arrival at home, to celebrate with you.”

“They—My—How do they know? How could they be—waiting—”

She smiled. Hinata gaped.

“I can be quite persuasive in certain things.”

The servants took control once again.

“Come this way, Hinata. Semi has some fine things made for you to choose from.”

“The same Semi who swore to have nothing to do with you again. He has such a weakness for nuptials, though.”

Just then the king came from the room. Somehow his shadow was felt. Hinata looked back over his shoulder, about to smile along with his escorts. Their eyes met, and he smiled all the more.

Hinata did not have to reach his front door to reach the party; it had long ago grown large enough that it spilled into the street, its entire length. The oncoming downpour had mandated that they stake up canvases to protect the feasting and dancing; underneath was every familiar face, flashing and peeking from every available crevice, laughing and shouting and jumping at him. Behind Hinata the palace group cheered their response.

Though he did wish it would not sting so much at his eyes, he would never for anything have given up this warm, brimming ache in his chest.

It was not until sundown that he found himself in the house with just his family. That meant it was time to go. Even Natsu knew, but as Shoyo looked at her it was clear that knowing it and condoning it had not been united.

“Sh—Sho-nii-chan—”

Their mother swept to her side. “Natsu. We have talked about this, your brother has things to do away from here.”

“Only for a while, Natsu,” he said. “I’ll be back soon, maybe even tomorrow.”

She shook her head, squeezing her fists to distract herself from her tears.

“Nii-chan—”

“Natsu please,” said their father.

“Nii-chan I want you to be happy forever!” She pushed her palms against her eyes. “Every day forever!”

He sighed with a smile. He still wore the crown of yellow flowers that Yachi had made for him. Now he took it off.

“Natsu?”

He waved her over, then bent down and set the crown on her head. She looked up through watery eyes. He smiled, and booped their noses together.

His father had said he would walk him there; they didn’t speak, not of how he had grown so fast, not of how the house would be quieter, not of all the suffering which had made this moment seem impossibly out of reach. They did not speak until they had reached the bridge over the moat. Hinata turned, and watched him deliver his entire speech:

“Keep your head up, Shoyo.”

The son stared in surprise. Then, eyes hardened like amber, he moved away from his father and walked across the bridge. Just before reaching the steps, he saw through the stone’s shadow someone waiting in the entrance. It was Tobio. As they made eye contact, there was a reaction in the redhead’s posture, which did not go unnoticed.

“Shoyo!” he called again. “Head up!”

Hinata set his shoulders. He turned around to bow to his father from the distance. But suddenly the king had stepped up beside him, and mirrored him. Hinata straightened up, looking on as his father returned the bow.

He felt Tobio’s eyes and answered them. The king turned toward the palace. He followed.

Tobio’s long striding kept him a little ahead, and he was not looking at him as he spoke.

“I would like—If you agree and if they do not object, I—would like to meet your family.”

Now he glanced back.

“Another time,” Hinata smiled.

He looked ahead again.

“Have you eaten?”

“Twice as much as I was hungry for,” Hinata said. “Did you eat?”

“Some.”

“You were waiting at the steps, were you afraid I would never come back?”

“I was waiting because I knew that you would be back.”

“Oh.” He smiled. “Did you talk to Akaashi-sama?”

“Yes, at dinner.”

“Is she going to be married soon?”

“When—When they return home.”

The fact of their own union had been brought to the front of their minds.

Hinata forced himself to nod. “It was kind of them to come for your wedding.”

“I know. It was a great sacrifice to leave her country so soon after being crowned.”

They entered a familiar hall.

“Tobio…”

He stiffened, and barely trusted himself to look back.

“Are we going to your room?”

The king stopped.

“I was only doing so out of habit. We may go wherever you wish, t—to...I am grateful that you are here to spend the evening with me.”

“I expected to go to your room,” Hinata said. “It is a part of our tradition.”

The redhead had changed from his everyday clothes into a bright white romper with ruffled sleeves and legs. Tobio wore the same pants, with a sheer black robe.

“It is part of our tradition also.”

Hinata nodded, turned and moved on.

 

When he had passed through the front room and the hall, and as he stood listening to Tobio’s approach behind him, Hinata smiled. He still smiled as he looked back, but it dissolved when he saw the king. Tobio didn’t have the command over his mouth that would be necessary to speak, but he was looking at him in such a way that Hinata could not fail to read it. And though the fear of it was pinning Tobio’s breath inside his chest, what the redhead did not do was shy away. He came closer. When he could get no closer, he rose unconsciously on his tiptoes.

Tobio put his arms to his waist. It started differently this time, peaceable despite their flaming and trembling, assured in the equal push from each side. And light, like feathers, like hot air rising, like Hinata had no weight at all as Tobio lifted him into the above position. Only at the end did it boil to a hint of the lightning storm it had been before. When Hinata sucked in a gasp, they broke apart. Tobio let him slip down to the floor and removed his hands.

Hinata looked away, then around the room.

“Another bed? Why is it on the balcony?”

It was smaller than Tobio’s own bed, its end jutting just into the room, and the top pressed up against the railing. It had a deep green canopy and curtains, making the inside dark as Hinata looked through the gap.

“I suppose it would be cooler there, with a better breeze,” said Tobio. “But the rain will get heavy any time now, it was foolish to place it there.”

The dark and coolness, the closeness to sky, was drawing Hinata in. His steps staggered a little toward the bed. He swayed, but couldn’t go farther. Then the king came to his side. Hinata watched the larger hand take his, and Tobio led him to the balcony. He parted the curtains and they slid into the sanctuary. Tobio turned and reached above him to pull the curtains shut, then sat himself on the bed.

Hinata’s gaze skipped the blue eyes and fell all the way to the mattress, where Tobio was pressing his fist. When Hinata put his hand on top of it, the fingers eased open, but Tobio made no other movement. Not even when Hinata’s hand left his, and drifted up to settle against his cheek. The skin was unevenly rough, but the touch itself was soft, like nothing more than a butterfly resting on a blade of grass. It was hard to believe in it. He tilted his head into the hand. The tilt was mimicked by the redhead, and it brought Tobio’s eyes finally to his.

But oh. To look at those eyes, it hurt more than it ever had, in a way he couldn’t identify as good or bad. They were pouring, no, stirring, no it was more than that, but less too, they had never seemed more still. For only a moment he flailed in his muddy thoughts, only until their entire landscape was consumed by exploding flames, when Hinata’s lips connected to his.

Tobio could feel the tremble behind them, but before he could press it away the lips had gone. They seared once at his neck, once at a collarbone. The air was damp and chill, and the tingle that burned as Hinata’s hands pushed the robe down his arms confused then intoxicated him. Hinata’s knees came up and Tobio made room. The hands slid down to his chest. He wished they would melt right through it and press to his lungs. Maybe that would make it easier to breathe. Suddenly the honeyed lips were at his ear, and a plethora of instincts kicked in.

“Are you afraid to touch me?”

Tobio’s hands moved to the back of his neck where the romper was fastened. He undid it and pressed his fingers to the skin. By the shoulders he pulled him in to kiss him. The rain was wonderfully loud, a swelling orchestra, and the canopy started to drip steadily on them. His fingers soothed every twitch of Shoyo’s skin, followed the groove deeper down his back. Fabric fell away and they kissed chest to chest. The red head lolled onto his shoulder and Tobio held fast.

When the eyes came up again Tobio was ready for them, wanted them, and Hinata was going to give, he leaned in, but with a thread between their lips he rocked forward at the waist, and they came together in a new and different way. The sounds of surprise were in unison, and so genuine that they warmed each other’s cheeks with them. Hinata rocked again in uncertainty and they sucked in breath. He took the pressure back, and they managed a kiss. Then the redhead removed himself and turned away to undress.

The king threw off the robe and pants, in time to watch the romper slip away from Hinata’s hips and dribble down his neatly shaped legs. As the observer he felt he was being seduced by nature itself, by the god of nature. By the orange flowers bursting their seams, by the wet earth beside the river, by the angelically heavy bread. Hinata was the god of those things. White briefs slunk past his ankle, and Tobio could not stop himself from going up and down every line, curve, that he had only been left to guess at before. It was when the brown gaze trailed back to him that Tobio became conscious, and guilty, of the hand he had wrapped hard around a second member of his body, in effort to alleviate the pressure there. He let go.

Tobio leaned back on one elbow, laying himself out and open on the bed.

“I have no doubt,” he rasped, “Of being pleased by you.”

The redhead’s lips drew apart. His brow lifted.

He came onto the bed, pushing fingertips to his chest to lay him flat. Tobio had been prince always, and king for some time, but he had never been worshipped before. Shoyo moved against him in the right ways, at the gap of his thigh, the space between his clenching cheeks. He inhaled the cold droplets from his skin, leaving the spots to glow warm. With more friction he groaned so softly, and Tobio’s throat was getting hot. Hands at his chest, rain splattering tiny coolants across his skin, and then Shoyo stretching out over him to shut the gap of curtain at their heads, putting out the last dusk light.

He dabbed carefully into the bowl, settled carefully between the legs Tobio had bent up, and murmured with his eyes and his lips:

“To please you.”

He slid one finger in.

His king’s sounds blended to perfection with the drum of rain, every staircase of breath, every escaped note. When Shoyo touched his side he rolled over, as sure and quick as all his responses, and Hinata felt something grow up from the bed, blossom in his stomach and weave through his veins. He had power, to pleasure him. The feeling flooded, leaving no crevice to house a hesitation. Shoyo pressed close to the back of him. He lifted the knees up onto his own shoulders, and straightened his back so that Tobio’s lower half was suspended. He leaned in and put his mouth where his hand had been.

The blue eyes perked into perfect round moons. But the protest was alive for one instant before it killed itself the next, and his forehead dropped onto the sopping sheets as the grunt rolled out into a sigh. Shoyo held the heavily endowed thighs steady on his shoulders, and each gasp and gape of pleasure sent him farther in.

When he bent over and eased Tobio’s legs down, the other returned immediately to his back. The canopy was sunk under its catch of rainwater, and they were soaking and swimming, hair stuck back, bodies slick, drops falling away from blinked lashes, and Shoyo reached again for the bowl, then knelt and sank through the barrier, all the way to their air-exposed skin meeting again. Fingers to wrist he guided Tobio’s understanding hand to his need. The strength of dancing hips showed itself in every reactive curl of his partner’s abdomen.

Tobio’s free fist twisted up the sheet beside him, as his back muscles screamed to heaven and his head was shot through with stars, and all the while the exact weight of Hinata Shoyo lent itself to him, a companion.

The redhead was seeing it through the lava his eyes poured. Now under his stare there appeared the tiniest upward tweak at the beautiful mouth of the beautiful Tobio below him. Shoyo’s legs spasmed with weakness; he dropped forward, and they tangled.


	20. Epilogue

When he opened his eyes, Hinata was gone from the bed. For a moment he thought it might have all been unreal. But then, he did not have that good of an imagination, and he had never had a dream that interesting. He pulled back the curtain and shattered his eyes in the sunrise and the beaming of Hinata.

“I kept it closed, I didn’t want the light to wake you.”

“What are you doing?”

Tobio could see that he had dressed in his working clothes, and was pressed to the railing.

“I can see it now,” Hinata said, “The perfect view of the dawn, as it comes up and up! over the palace and then the whole kingdom.” He grinned. “I can see it, because I’m free.”

As the smile lingered at him, Tobio covered himself more thoroughly with the sheets.

“My family will have breakfast soon,” he said. “Can I go see them?”

“Yes, go.”

The redhead hovered at the bedside, still glowing.

“But I will come back.”

“I will hate you for eternity if you do not.”

Hinata laughed. Tobio knew his eyes would never stop seeing the spots from this morning. Then Hinata shut the curtain around them.

“You look so well rested, Tobio-sama.”

His smile grew timid as he reached to put a black hair back into its place. Tobio pulled him down by the arm and they kissed, both pinking as they pulled away.

“Bye Osu!”

He left a crack in the curtains as he swept out.

Tobio put his feet to the balcony and spread the curtain farther. There was orange, pink, hazy purple, and clouds thick with the overflow of the colors. He had watched and never seen until now. Hundreds of feet below, Hinata was running out into the sun.

 


End file.
